Revenant: 66th UED Regiment(Completed)
by Augustrad
Summary: In the wake of Kerrigan's rise to power and the utter defeat of the UED Expeditionary Force, the last remnants must find the will to survive in the chaos of the Koprulu Sector. Follow Weston and others as they meet new and familiar faces, both friendly and deadly. (Author note last chapter)
1. Chapter 1: End of the Line

Chapter 1: End of the Line

Lieutenant Weston found himself a sizable enough rock to take a seat and propped his rifle up to the side. The helmet's visor slid back revealing a rigid jaw line and noticeable signs of stress thanks to this sector, small trails of sweat ran from forehead downwards. He took a moment to enjoy the bathing rays of sunlight as they hit his face. To think that not long ago they were on their way home away from this godforsaken sector of space, but then 'She' showed up. As if their prior defeat above Char was not bad enough, her minions hunted them all down to their deaths. The UED fleet was gone and no one would be able to report back to Earth what exactly had transpired.

"Well, sir, this isn't exactly how I thought everything would play out. But certain parts, for once I'm glad of that fact." Weston looked to his right to see First Sergeant LaCroix standing nearby.

"You're not the only one. Hell, we've all been given an unwarranted second chance."

"Yea, so we have." He gazed upon the unsettling clear sky. "Wish the rest could have gotten it also."

"The unlucky ones sadly." Weston ran through their series of unfortunate events in his head. From Char to turning tail to surviving a massacre, it was all FUBAR. "Thank the stars for Talbot's common sense under pressure, or else we'd be along with them."

"Common sense?" Surprise and aggravation arose in LaCroix's tone. "It was crueler than anything else, sir. We don't leave others behind like selfish cowards, yet we did just that."

"I don't completely disagree." Weston stood up from his rock. "But, if we held fast then we were dead men walking. Cowards be damned, we all saw our lives flash before our eyes. The coward's choice was the only fucking choice."

"Not completely disagreeing, but it's still shit."

"I don't like it the same as you. At least we can second guess that decision and live with any regrets, a lot of people gave their lives for it."

Captain Talbot forcefully took command when Major Einsturn wanted to fight to the last man. Einsturn was only doing what he was trained to do, fight. He might have seen the battle was already lost before it began or he might not. But honestly, they probably had already lost the whole endeavor before they arrived in the sector. The Zerg were unpredictable and vicious beyond all their projections.

"Just wished we still had some siege tanks to help pack a punch when needed. But no, guess that would be asking for too much wouldn't it, sir?" LaCroix shrugged before turning to leave. "Going to make a current supply count. Good luck on being in charge, assuming we don't find anyone else alive."

He didn't want to be the one to take charge as the situation was a complete shit show with a slim chance of survival. However, the circumstances did not exactly give him much of a choice. Talbot's dropship got hit on the way down to the surface and the next available chain of command was nowhere in sight. It was him and two other Lieutenants, with him pulling seniority among themselves. That was more or less the skinny on how they got here. Where was here? Just a lovely place called...

"Zerg incoming!"

Before heads could turn, C-14 Gauss rifles fired repeatedly into continuous ranks of oncoming and unending Zerg swarm. They poured out from the foliage and boxed them against the edge of the cliff. However, eccentric Zergling nor ravenous Hydralisk could make any significant advancement onto their position. Seeing them die en masse brought forward a malicious smile, one of the few simple joys of living in the Koprulu Sector.

"Lieutenant Weston! Enemy reinforcements coming from grid twelve, a pack of flyers moving in hard and fast!"

"Son of a-." Weston already had his rifle and jumped into action. "Get those missile turrets online asap!"

Echo Company, 66th Regiment of the UED Expeditionary Force had fallen back to a rocky cliff and were now pinned against the raging sea. Their best defense was a hurriedly constructed line of bunkers, turrets, and whatever else they could grab for protection. Here they were to make their last heroic stand against the insatiable swarm on Balok, a small and rather forgettable jungle planet near the Braxis system. Quite the fitting grave considering how fucked up everything had become.

Weston observed the chaos that unfolded before him. Even as a seasoned veteran soldier, the experiences that the Koprulu Sector brought along with it had been hard to stomach at times. He had fought in battle back home but it was nothing like this. Hell hath no fury like a Zerg swarm, among other things anyway.

"Damn it all to hell, all of this." Weston cursed as he oversaw the battlefield. "I wonder how anyone in this sector keeps their sanity intact, or life for that matter."

"Sir?" LaCroix took potshots when he could while staying on Weston's ass.

"Just saying off the record, I kinda have respect for people like Raynor and Mengsk in a certain aspect." He calmed himself back down from the surrounding panic. "Sane or not, they've survived this longer than we have and most likely will regardless of the end."

"No offense, sir, but this is really not the time."

Right on cue, the familiar screeching of Mutalisk came from over the water near grid twelve. In the distance was a large group of them headed their way, much larger than Weston would have liked. If this was their final moments then so be it, he was going to face it head on and die fighting.

"Squads three and four focus fire on our new guests, your nine." A section of the reserve line turned swiveled their sights. "Everyone else is to hold the line no matter the cost. Understood boys?"

"Yes sir!"

As the Mutalisk reached their position, so too did a volley of stinger missiles impale themselves onto their targets. Primal screams echoed in the sky as the Zerg flyers were forced to veer off from the ferocity of the incoming fire, of both marine rifles and missile turret. A small victory for the UED forces before their almost certain impending doom, if not for an anomaly. All Zerg forces backed off and fled into the foliage or flew off over the water.

"The hell?" Weston observed as Hydralisk and Zergling fell back. "Hold fire! Hold your fire!"

The gunfire slowly died down as the bunkers once blazing with muzzle flashes went silent. The sound of the Zerg became fainter as they retreated into the dense jungle foliage, creating a calm but eerie peace over their position. It was so unnatural that Weston almost wished the Zerg to attack again, just almost.

"Someone mind telling me what in damnation just happened?"

"No fucking clue, Rick, but I wouldn't be questioning a second chance at life right now."

"Yea, I'm with Diaz, so just shut up and enjoy the moment."

"Alright alright, cut the chatter ladies." Weston was still unsure of what he just saw. "We're on high alert until stated otherwise."

"Roger that, sir."

All that ensued was peaceful silence and Weston could not believe his ears. The Zerg had retreated far enough that the tides of the ocean were louder than the nearest creature. He double checked the scanners and they agreed with what his senses told him. Did they just achieve victory?

"Diaz, why don't you use that second life and get me a recon report. Take your pick of personnel."

"Aww hell, knew I should have kept my mouth shut." Grumbling before accepting his orders. "Moving, sir, but someone owes me drinks at the next civilized establishment."

"So be it." Weston turned to a nearby SCV. "Get on those repairs, pronto. I don't want to see those bunkers burn down or your ass is mine."

"Right away, sir."

"Everyone else, take five in turns."

Weston took another breather as he watched the soldiers go about their business. The biggest question going forward was wondering what happens next. Assuming they hold out against whatever else the Zerg threw at them, they needed a place of refuge. Due to recent events, their choice of options was slim and not entirely safe. This was normal for the Koprulu Sector, unfortunately.

"Goddamn, just another fucking day in paradise."


	2. Chapter 2: When It All Went To Hell

Chapter 2: When It All Went To Hell

-24 Hours Earlier-

An unnerving silence as they ate their meals in the mess hall, small chatter seldomly broke out here and there. They were running away with tails between their legs. The combined power of UED Expeditionary Force, Dominion of Man, and the Protoss Armada was not enough to turn the tides against the self proclaimed Queen of Blades. Though after the battle, it was more like queen monster bitch of the universe in Weston's opinion. He finished his meal and left the mess hall for his quarters.

Admiral Dugalle had officially issued his final orders within the Koprulu Sector. Retreat, return to Earth empty handed. The UED Expeditionary Force had failed its mission and thus had failed Earth. For all their initial success, it was nothing more than a false illusion in the end. The insatiable Zerg swarm and advanced technology of the Protoss were too much to keep in check. It was a miracle that Mengsk and his Dominion could survive as they have, an admirable resolution of will and cunning.

"Weston, may I have a word?" Captain Briggs waited a few doors down the hallway, beckoning him over. "Need you to finish up sooner rather than later."

"The personnel report?"

"Yea, it sucks I know." Everyone's soul hurt in each word. "However, the admiral will want a final tally to send in an advanced report to Earth. At the very least get an estimate for now."

"Roger that, sir."

Briggs nodded and Weston went on his merry way. Fuck the Zerg, fuck the Protoss, fuck all the Terran Colonies, and royally fuck this accursed Koprulu Sector to all kinds of hell and back. They had been through the worst more than once since they arrived here and only had body bags to show for it. He knew one too many names on those bags, maybe more than one too many.

Weston had seen enough soldiers get a jagged spine through the skull, limbs ripped apart, and far worse by the Zerg. Enough friends took their last breath with a blue psionic blade thrust into their torso. Just fuck everything. As far as he was concerned, this sector and him were parting ways for good. Let some other naive fools led an expedition back here only to not realize what awaited them. Weston apparently cursed and bitched long enough that he reached his quarters faster than expected.

The door slid open and he crashed on the bunk without hesitation. Neither of his roommates were in, probably still in mess hall or by the workout room to relieve the stress. Actually, one of his three fellow officers was with good probability relieving his stress in an empty room with a female Lieutenant from the Engineering Corp. Well it all worked up to more peace and quiet for him. Of course, at some point he would have to get to work on that report.

"Fuck bullshit paperwork." Weston groaned as he found the strength to pull himself off the bunk. "What else can I add to this unpleasant list I seem to be compiling?"

There were a few officers that without question would go high on the list. Maybe a few NCO's could have an argument made for, one stuck up guy in particular. But duties were duties and duty called or was at least commanded. Maybe he could add the entire Expeditionary Force to the list? Then the first alarm went off and panic replaced all sense of collective calm.

"Incoming Zerg detected!" It was nice to know the red lights still functioned. "Repeat! Incoming Zerg detected!"

"As if the shit hadn't already hit the fan."

Report to Captain Briggs time now, any and all other priorities were shoved to the side. Weston bolted out the door and headed to Echo Company's makeshift Headquarters. Everyone else reported to station as instilled in training, though he could see it in their eyes. Fear, true fear when there was no escape. Kerrigan had given them false hope of returning home only to pull the rug from under their feet. She was intent on tracking them down like wild animals.

More than a few people bumped shoulders and lost their footing. Orders from higher were shouted over the ship's comms which only added to the chaos in Weston's opinion. A left, then a right, one more right, back to the left, and finally room E13 was just up ahead. Meant for supply storage, it was hard to use for its intended purpose when there were no supplies to store. The majority of leadership from NCO and Officer were already there. Briggs looked ready to rip off a Zerg head with his bare hands.

"Weston, perfect timing." Pairs of eyes turned to greet him upon the announcement. "I'm putting you in charge of a section. We're preparing for the worst case scenario, which according to latest intel is our current destination."

"How many?"

"Too many." His eyes wandered the room. "Enough that I've already advised Talbot of our current course of actions. Be prepared to abandon the fleet."

A unanimous grumble surfaced at the notion of the idea. It did not sit well with Weston either, nor did much of anything as of late. Was it really that bad?

"Sir, what exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm advising that we survive. I've pass my thought on to a few others, but I'm..."

"Captain Briggs." The suit comms interrupted him. "This is Talbot, get your ass up to the bridge asap."

Weston needed only a few guesses as to what that was about. "Roger, on route." Briggs eyed him once more. "I would like to fight another day, so it is what it is. Also, get suited up."

Weston looked himself over only now registering that he was indeed still in civvies. Briggs was out of the room in a heartbeat. Yea, that pretty much covers the start of when everything went to hell.

LaCroix relayed the initial reports from the recon squad. The Zerg had backed off and no idea why or where. As far as their scanners were picking up, the Zerg were gone. Had their losses been extensive enough that Kerrigan thought them inconsequential? Maybe so.

Their first priority was hooking up with the rest of the regiment and whoever else survived. There were scattered reports of contact across the planet, some of which had since gone silent. Sufficient sites were still active on comms to give hope. Hope was their biggest ally right now.

"Weston." Fellow Lieutenant McCullough routed him from his thoughts. "We got confirmation from the other sites on an all clear. Also, Major White would like to speak with you when you get a chance."

"Sounds good." Weston grabbed his gear ready to clear out of the command quarters. "But first I'm going to get in contact with Briggs, as I want a clearer picture."

"That's not going to happen."

"The fuck it's not." McCullough stood emotionless in response. "How so?"

"Why do you think White wants to talk to you?"


	3. Chapter 3: Reasons and Pride

A little short like the last chapter, sorry :(. Normally I'm one for much longer chapters when I'm writing my original works. However, with this I feel myself completing the idea of the chapter in a much shorter time. Maybe because I work fan-fiction a little differently than original content and don't realize it. Anywho, another chapter down. I will need to do some research to plan where and what exactly will happen. Unfortunately I don't have the starcraft universe map memorized lol.

 **Chapter 3: Reasons and Pride**

As a kid, the imagination is wild and uncontrollable. So when propaganda gets inside that head of yours, it digs deep. Whether it be the blatant lies of the Confederacy, the false promises of the Dominion, or even the misplaced hope in the United Powers League on Earth; the imagination absorbs it all and without filter.

Torres Weston was not a complete fool. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he signed up, accepted every word true or false. A young and eager soldier fresh out of the academy and awaiting an opportunity to prove himself. A chance to escape the past was worth a couple of spoon fed white lies. Little did he know those opportunities would come and come without recourse, nor without mercy. Funny how life works.

Weston had just got off comms with Major White. The situation was FUBAR before and had only gotten worse, as if it was even possible. A number of senior leadership were dead or missing, and not all that rose to replace them survived the occasion. The icing on the cake, Weston was now acting commander of Echo Company rank notwithstanding.

"Sir, what's our next plan of action?"

"Set up a rally point and salvage what we can. Beyond that? Fuck if I know at the moment."

Weston was observing the display that showed all current unit locations. What was left was a hodgepodge of different companies and a few regiments. Hell if he knew the fate of others who attempted to flee, not many made it far. Their battlecruiser was one of the few to make a clear jump. The fury of the Zerg Swarm followed them soon after.

"What about this lowland area here?" He stuck a finger at the hologram. "We could use the nearby river and the area is defensible enough."

"That could work." An operator examined location further. "I'll run it by the adjutant and see if anything gets picked up."

"Good, any word on transport?"

"We can salvage a few ships, but nothing with firepower." Weston's heart sank slightly. "Don't expect any battlecruisers, sir."

"Yea, figured."

The command tent was running at minimal capacity in preparation for movement. Even some of the bunkers and turrets were already salvaged to only a skeleton crew leftover. Weston had taken everything in stride, least that was one of the things he remembered from officer training. It also helped to have competent soldiers around him. Once verification came back, he gave the order to move out. The good news was that once all units merged together, they formed a competent fighting force. Albeit it was a sketchy force but one nonetheless. LaCroix would be happy though. Delta Company was in possession of intact and working siege tanks.

By evening they reached their coordinates. They were not the first ones there. Delta had arrived before them and put their tanks in siege mode. While the primary concern was perimeter security, Weston bet a part of it was to raise morale. Whatever the case, it worked a little magic as they marched on by. SCV's went about their business setting up temporary supply depots and barracks. Captain Damien from Alpha assumed responsibility of the base camp, his yell had not lost its edge. A private was already cornered after they almost wrecked a vulture. Elsewhere, Master Sergeant Fulmer from Fox gave a driver his own mouthful for almost running over communication equipment.

Weston was stuck in the middle of it all at HQ. With a committee of Officers and NCOs, duties were divided up and priorities set. Eventually he found an avenue to slip away from the discussion and find a slice of quiet. It did not take long for LaCroix to hunt him down.

"Taking a breather or already fed up?"

Weston shifted on the supply crates as LaCroix walked up beside him. "Pick one, figure the result is the same."

"I'll think about it."

They waited in silence as the gears of the camp moved on around them. Familiar faces came and went, some stopped to greet them. It was refreshing hearing another's voice because that meant they were alive. LaCroix broke first.

"Sir, may I ask something personal?"

"Shoot."

"Well, considering that we're stuck in this sector for the foreseeable future." LaCroix must never have heard of the saying about the cat and curiosity. "Why did you sign up?"

"What?" Weston retorted in surprise.

"Just a thought considering recent events. I'm sure you didn't come along to get sliced to pieces by aliens."

"No, I definitely didn't." Weston let a chuckle weasel out. "I don't know really to be honest. Something along the lines of honor and glory, a little for the betterment of mankind maybe."

"All that hogwash bullshit?" LaCroix leaned against a nearby crate. "I don't take you for an idiot, though some may dispute over your rank."

Weston let the distraction of a transport flying overhead garner his attention. No, he was not a total idiot. His education saw to at least give him a few brain cells. But no one was perfect and definitely not him.

"You're probably right. For some that's reason enough, but it's not for me." It was at some point, right? "I guess my reason...is because. Literally, just because."

LaCroix skeptically eyed him up and down. "You sure that's your final answer?"

"Yup, I'm a simple man. I don't need complicated reasoning to throw my hand into the ring."

"Point and shoot?"

Weston hopped off his crate. He could hear a commotion of voices from inside which signaled that it was probably time to go back inside, despite what was an oncoming headache. LaCroix had not moved from his crate. Weston rested a hand on his shoulder as he walked by.

"Point and shoot."

Both of them returned to the active conversation inside. With most topics settled, LaCroix was put in charge of reorganizing Echo back into a proper fighting unit. Normally not a job for a Staff Sergeant except that the First Sergeant on record never made landfall breathing. So as with most, acting duty orders trumped rank.

LaCroix corralled everyone into their section of the base. In total, 78 soldiers were accounted for. That number put them at around sixty percent strength of their assigned number of 120. There were still better than one or two other companies.

"Shit, this is going to be rough."


	4. Chapter 4: Backup Backup Plan

Chapter 4: Backup Backup Plan

"Agria System?"

"So I hear." Sergeant First Class Samson tore open an MRE pouch. "Apparently the citizens don't care for any of the major authorities in the sector, our ls included. Their stance is as independent as possible."

"Bottom line, they won't shoot at us when we approach?"

"When did I say that, Haines?"

"Sorry for assuming. Fricking dammit!" The micro tool flung from his hand. "This rifle is busted for good."

Staff Sergeant Haines was the company's resident weapon expert, and their weasel. If he could not fix something then nobody could. Samson dodged left to avoid an unnecessary bruise.

"Be glad we have spare."

Haines rolled his eyes. "On a somewhat relative note, the Zerg and all. Isn't Agria near Char? Isn't that kinda bad?"

"Nah, it's not that bad." The sarcasm was overflowing like a waterfall. "The Zerg in that area are all docile and only want to hug you with their pointy blades. The more they cut you means the more they care about you."

"Okay, stop." Haines put up a hand but could not hold back a smirk of his own. "You clearly and very dramatically made your point."

"Good."

Both were in the armory designated to supply depot 7B. Samson kept the other company to pass time. He had been unlucky, or lucky, and was passed over on the first supply mission to Agria. First Lieutenant McCullough was to oversee the trip with Sergeant Falk.

"Okay, Zerg and Char aside. You heard anything else?"

"Specifically?"

"We get supplies, cool. But if we stay here then we're sure as hell done from either Zerg, Protoss, or even Human."

"Ah." Knuckles cracked as Samson stretched out on his cot. "There are a few options."

"Such as?"

"Well, there's the Kel-Morians or Umojan Protectorate. They might be able to spare us a few ships, enough for us to piecemeal a small fleet together." Samson's hand waved around in no particular direction. "Even with that, the Zerg are still roaming unchecked between us and home. But then there is the other option."

"Other?" Haines sat at attention. "Don't tell me we have to deal with mercs?"

"No, it's more hazardous than that. We don't go home."

Silence.

"You're joking right?"

"You disagree?" Samson sat up to meet his gaze. "We aren't going home anytime soon. The best we have is short range transport. And honestly, we go back home to only be sent back out into this hellfire. I'd rather stick around and make something with what's left of my life."

"It won't be long by this sector's standards."

"Probably right."

The two did nothing for about a minute which felt about twice as long. There were many that could not deny the thought of being stuck here came up once or twice. Sure, it sucked they were leaving in defeat, but they were leaving for home. Some adapted better than others now that they were not.

"To each their own I guess."

"Well said." Samson dropped his head for a few nods. "On a more uplifting note, how close to blowing a fuse is Falk about now?"

"Blowing or has blown?" Haines cracked a smile. "I'll bet more than he wanted to."

"Sounds about right."

The farthest back left bunk now contained a mixture of sweat and hormones, not to mention a few screws may have been loosened. Diaz took out a pack of smokes and lit one for himself and then Leichner. Not exactly the perfect match personality wise, but they made it work.

"I've lost track." Diaz glanced at his wristwatch. "We're supposed to be at recall formation arou-."

"At long enough we still have plenty of time."

Diaz would have argued about standards and discipline if not for her naked body underneath him. The German fraulein was as in shape as any male, and might even put a few to shame. Diaz was a lucky bastard.

"How do you say it? Entspannen?"

She laughed. "Close enough, I guess I can teach you a thing or two."

About an hour later they finished putting their clothes back on. Diaz was already into another smoke with rifle slung over shoulder. Leichner pulled on and tied her second boot, taking her sweet time in doing so.

"What do you think the Zerg are doing now?"

Diaz leaned against the bunk post. "Rampaging and ravaging anything they can get their hands, or blades on."

"Hmm, I hear Weston made the call to get in contact with the Umojan Protectorate. I doubt we will get any more help from them than asking local pirates, except for that pink haired bitch."

"You probably right on that." Diaz shrugged. "But they have stayed as neutral as possible which means they will at least hear us out before turning away, which is an improvement over going to the Dominion."

Leichner rose up and slung her rifle. "I guess anything is better than nothing."

"That's the spirit! Now let's get to formation."

Diaz led the way outside to the conglomerate mess that was Echo Company. Not long after, Weston appeared and confirmed their prediction. One team to Agria and one to Umoja. Lucky them, Diaz and Leichner were assigned to the Umojan team. A transport was already prepped for them to leave after they suited up.

"So, want to make any bets?" They shuffled along with the others.

"Bets?" Leichner was only partially listening. "What kind of bets?"

They loaded into the dropship and secured their equipment. There was a rowdy conversation near the front but mostly silent faces. Diaz had purposefully slowed down, preferring to take the back most seat and Leichner beside.

"Whether we get shot at, told to fuck off, politely ignored, or run across some desperate pirates." Diaz counted off with his fingers. "Take your pick."

"Where's the option of them helping us out?"

"Didn't realize you THAT much of a risk taker."

Another voice commanded attention. "Alright ladies and boys!" Staff Sergeant Wetz, 2nd Platoon Echo. "You all know the gist of what we're doing. Stay frosty and no bullshit, alright? You still represent the best of the best, UED or not."

"Hooah!"

All soldiers repeated back in unison. Fuck it, today was going to be a damn good day.


	5. Chapter 5: Agria Problems

So as a reviewer concluded, I am in the National Guard so the military stuff comes kinda naturally. As far as story plot,to be honest I'm kinda winging it partly but I do have one idea I like more than the rest. We shall see what happens. Also, one story idea regarding, Raynor may have a part to play in this :).

side note, I didn't intentionally mean to make the chapters this length on average. However I'm finding I like the impact there more bite size, 1000 word, chapters give. Allows me to focus on getting to the point and theme of each chapter.

Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy more adventures of Echo Company.

Chapter 5: Agria Problems

Unlike others, Weston started as enlisted and worked his way into the NCO ranks before commissioning as an officer. So assuming command of the regiment was not quite as a daunting task as it could have been. It still did not make any of the decisions easy.

"LaCroix, need your opinion."

"Go ahead."

"We got two teams with their own missions, hopefully they succeed. But what about our situation here?" Weston backed off the display terminal. "How long you think we got?"

"Clarify, sir."

"Until we become important enough to be noticed again." Weston grabbed a seat next to LaCroix. "We don't have the manpower to hold back a full scale assault. We got what, six half strength companies? Even with the 67th and 82nd, we're maybe seven hundred strong if I'm being very generous."

"Thankfully we got time." He shrugged. "Really, who's going to give a damn about our little skeleton crew when the Zerg number in the billions?"

"Point well made."

"I'm more worried if we can't get fresh supplies."

The team to Agria would almost be there by now and they had priority. At least if the Umojan team encountered complications, they had more options. All of them were either riskier or less pleasant, or both.

"What if we dropped our autonomy? Hear me out a minute." Weston quickly held up a hand. "James Raynor. He's got his little 'Raiders' group going and isn't on particularly good terms with Mengsk."

"You'd be chasing a ghost. He went silent shortly after Augustgrad and to an extent so did the others, Protoss included."

"I'm aware, but maybe a ghost is what we need right now."

The camp had quieted down with all surviving units accounted for and settled in. Guards were posted and a twenty four hour watch was initiated, more out of precaution than necessity. The two of them grabbed coffee and stepped outside for a bit of fresh air as Weston continued.

"So what's your odds regarding Agria?"

"Odds? Better than most other places." LaCroix paused for a sip. "As long as there aren't any surprises they should be fine. But it's those surprises that I'm worried about."

"That works for me."

 _Agria - Organic Research Building_

"I thought this was a simply supply run, but of course to hell with that." Sergeant Falk released a few bursts. "Munn! Behind you!"

Two zerglings that thought they had the element of surprise were riddled with holes. Munn moved to cover the gap. "Clear!"

"Marx and Cassidy, go check on Samson and our weasel."

"Moving, sergeant."

The hallway ahead was empty for now. "Rest of you on me, stagger and overwatch."

They moved in double file as they scanned all doorways for a ambush. Mostly they found the mutilated bodies of scientists and some militia. Falk reached the end without trouble, only for trouble to find them around the corner.

"The hell are you?"

It was human or once was, one of the scientist to be exact based off the lab coat. But one side of his body was mutated into Zerg, almost Kerrigan like.

"Screw the what! Drop it, drop it now!"

No sooner had they opened fire than it lunged at them with its mutated claw. The creature fell to the ground thoroughly riddled with holes, the hallway returned to silence. What was left of the creature's humanity faded away.

"This strain of infestation is different." Specialist Dirk examined the body under tactical light. "It's too much like, Her. This isn't their usual brain dead time bomb marines."

"Aware of that, Dirk. Priority still stands, move out."

A few feral Zerg blocked their path only to be carcasses afterwards. Falk and his team worked their way further into the complex, no signs of any survivors.

"We still got that signal?" They crossed a catwalk overlooking a large gardening biome, creep intruding from the cracks.

"Yea, one more left and right in front of the door."

The last length of the trip was void if anymore unpleasant encounters. They reached the specified door to find another surprise, clogged with Zerg corpses. Voices emitted from inside the room.

"Attention any survivors!" Falk got as close as comfortably possible to the door. "This is Sergeant Falk and we're here to get you out. Anyone hurt?"

The voices quieted until one spoke above the rest. "This is Serena Valdez, I work with Ariel Hanson. A few minor injuries but that's it."

"Good to hear."

"Who are-" Then chaos reared its head inside as other voices spoke up.

"Hydralisk, coming through the door." The sound of forced metal reverberated.

"Everyone back, get back!"Another voice yelled as a magazine was loaded into a rifle.

"Funnel them throu-"

The last voice was cut short from gunfire and an acidic spike through the chest. A few bullets ricocheted out the narrow gap of the front door, Falk thankfully withdrew his face beforehand.

"Valerie, force the door." Falk repositioned himself and weapon in front of the gap as much as possible. "Someone else clear the dead Zerg." He pressed the trigger and never let go.

Through efforts on multiple fronts, the door opened enough and most of the people inside were alive. The Hydralisks had been killed or forced back and the room was now secured. Valdez, a few scientists, and one soiled pants militia greeted them. At least their target had survived unharmed and her common sense seemed to be intact.

"We need to get out of here. There's no telling when they will come back."

"They probably won't, this is the last pocket of resistance." Valdez was lost in confusion. "We've been in touch with the local militia and they have the situation contained."

"Contained?" She aided another scientist in getting up. "Everything needs to be burned to the ground, cleanse it all."

"Already on that." Falk scanned the entry corridors. "Firebats were called in asap. But yes, we need to evacuate. Are you ready?"

She stuttered for words. "Uh, yes, we're fine. But I have to ask, who the hell are you guys?"

Falk stopped, slightly caught off guard by the inquiry. "66th Reg-Echo Company, UED Expeditionary Force."

"Oh." The stunned look remained. "Why are you here?"


	6. Chapter 6: Nutritious Diet

Chapter 6: New Battlefield, Same Threats

"Feral Zerg is what you're telling me?" Lieutenant McCullough's team had rejoined with the rest of the group. They stood in a hastily put up tent near the entrance to the compound still in full combat suits, the burning structures unable to be quenched by the rain. Valdez's people had been evacuated from the site while she remained to follow up with her rescuers. "I knew that was potentially a thing. Why now though?"

"I don't know." She hung her head shaking. "I thought Kerrigan had everything under control, all under her alien thumb. Apparently, that may not be the case."

"Yea, well something has them spooked and I want to know why if we're staying in the near vicinity."

"Sir, we honestly can worry about that at a later time." Falk subtly whispered as he tugged the Lieutenant away from the conversation. "Our mission priority is-"

"-is to secure supplies? That's Weston's objective technically. The prime directive of the UED is to prevent any threats to Earth."

"Sir, we're not in a position to defend ourselves."

Sparks would have flown if someone lit a match between the two. McCullough had a reputation for being the poster boy officer while Falk preferred to get shit done. The two of them had developed a work-hate relationship for the most part, recent events not helping the cause.

"I understand that, Sergeant. But while we still wear our uniforms we will not forget where we came from. Any Intel we can document to send back will be invaluable." McCullough gave him a one over. "Any other concerns, Sergeant?"

"None whatsoever, sir."

"Copy that."

McCullough and Falk moved back towards Valdez. While they were busy with their chitchat, she had pulled out a holo-pad and was denoting locations. There were two big red dots to be specific.

"Lieutenant, I was just telling the others about two other sites which were part of the research being done here." She handed the pad over. "I may have a rough guess as to why the Zerg were Feral and so far only attacked here."

"I'm listening."

"Okay, first it may come down to what we were doing here. Which for the record, was entirely civil and not militarily applicable."

"No one is accusing you, go on."

Valdez shrugged in relief. "We were doing chemical and biological test on various plants and foods. Accelerating growth, delaying expiration, and...injecting specialized nutrient shots. The ultimate human food where one meal could last you for days."

McCullough's face remained stone as if interrogating a prisoner. "And how successful were you on that?"

"Apparently, successful enough to where the Zerg really like it."

1 hour later, Site #3

"Hanson filled me in on the rest. I'm sorry to hear about what happened, the Zerg are merciless."

Falk kept staring at the table of potted plants. "Yes they are. Though it's funny to hear you say sorry, as we weren't that much more popular than Mengsk and his Dominion."

"Prior actions regardless, no one deserves death for following orders. At least, that's my viewpoint."

A lab technician came in and began to move his conveniently located distraction. Muttering a curse or two under breath, Falk made eye contact with Valdez. She was definitely not a great liar as she meant every word of her statement.

"Thanks." He grabbed his rifle from the table behind him. "Back to an important topic, those feral Zerg that nabbed your space bound crater are gone. We can get a general direction but that's it."

"Shit."

"Yea, my condolences." Falk meandered towards the door. "I don't mean to be a buzzkill but we do need to wrap up our mission here soon, got people depending on us."

"What? Oh yes, of course." Valdez stumbled out of her thoughts. "Thank you, again. If your team hadn't arrived then I wouldn't be breathing right now."

"Your welcome." He leaned to leave before thinking better of it. "Though to be more likely, you would still be breathing but in an infested state. Food for thought, doctor."

Falk left Valdez alone with her thoughts, and needless to say they had taken a sharp cliff dive. He could have sworn her knuckles gripping the counters edge had turned a little white. It was not his problem if she had a queasy stomach, but be damned if he got a chuckle out of it.

Staff Sergeant Haines gave him a quick sensitive items report on bumping into him in the hallway. Nothing of significant damage thankfully, including personnel, with the worst being a few scratches. After giving the report, the Weasel went off to find Samson. Falk had a meeting with McCullough. They had got what they originally came here for, or at least an agreement for it.

"Perfect timing, if there ever was such a thing."

"Roger, sir."

McCullough was leaning over a desk going through various papers. His combat suit was shoved into a corner and he was in his fatigues, the sleeves rolled up to elbows.

"You'll be pleased to hear, supplies are in route and we should be heading back home shortly." Yet somehow the words were not as comforting as Falk hoped. "In regards to our Zerg bandits and the stolen cargo, their last trajectory puts them in the Kel-Morian direction."

"Good, let them deal with the issue."

"Sergeant, you know why I'm curious about this info." McCullough's eyes never left the documents. "We took control of the Overmind for fucks sake, the goddamn Overmind. Who's to say someone else didn't get their hands on something they shouldn't have?"

"Sir, that is a just concern." In all honesty, if someone with enough resources had the ambition, well, shit would roll downhill. "However, the Overmind is dead and Kerrigan is not one to be controlled by others. For now, I think we can rest easy."

"Yea, I hope you're right on all accounts."

McCullough finally looked up and eyes met. There was a new gleam Falk had not seen before, and it was not one of excitement or joy but a flash of uncertainty. It was knowing that there was no UED to fall back on if shit hit the proverbial fan. Hopefully this was nothing but an extreme oddity.

"If nothing else, we at least got supplies to keep us in the fight should something happen. Maybe the Umojan team will get as lucky as we did."

"What makes you say that?"

"There's no Zerg reported in the area. What's the worst that can happen?"

"This sector, a lot worse can happen." McCullough returned to his work. "Unless you have anything to report you're dismissed."

"Sir."

Falk left the room but could not help the words weigh on his mind. This was the Koprulu sector. If something as freaky as the Queen of Blades and Protoss could exist, then a whole shit ton more possibly could. Some days he really loved his job.


	7. Chapter 7: Umojan Commotion

Notes: If you don't know who Schezar is, go to your scenarios folder and play the enslaver missions. That is all, have a nice day.

 **Chapter 7: Umojan Commotion**

"That was almost a fucking disaster."

"Seriously, the shitstorm we run into?"

"I know the Terran strength in the sector got reduced after Char, but there's no reason for this bullshit."

"And now I'll have to redo my hair when I get out of this suit."

"I know, same...what?"

Diaz jabbed her side after a double take. Considering they just weaved their way through a pirate raid and survived, hair would be the last thing on his mind. He was more worried about the ineffectiveness of the Umojan forces if they were forced to rely on their support.

"I'm kidding. You need to lighten up a bit, and not just when you're naked."

"Alright, alright." Diaz quickly glanced left and right. "Let's save that talk for another time."

"Whatever you say."

So they stood in wait on the docking platform for a government official to arrive. Eventually, a frazzled older gentleman presented himself to their party. After a brief introduction and exchange of words, they learned of an increased amount of piracy since Mengsk was content with licking his wounds. In the meantime others had grown bolder.

They were directed to a residence near the main government building. Due to recent events, garnering an audience would have to wait. Also not to mention, there was a small matter of vetting before meeting top government officials. They carried the UED namesake after all. Nevertheless, a meeting was arranged first thing next morning.

 _The next day (because I'm having issues with other notation not saving)_

"Wetz picked you?" Diaz was busy pushing through a bottle he nabbed the night before. "Damn, aren't you a lucky bastard?"

"Should I be proud of it?" Leichner snatched the bottle away from Diaz to feeble protest. "I fucking hate politics. I was hoping to be put on dropship guard duty, not be at the discussion."

"Technically, you're probably going to be outside the room guarding the door. You'll be able to roll your eyes freely."

"Thanks." She finished off the remainder of the bottle. "I'll still be able to hear them through the door though. Wish I had your assignment, which was what again exactly?"

Diaz stood up and straightened his maroon jacket. "I've been tasked with blending in with the locals and finding out the word on the street."

"So you've been given a free pass for the day?"

"Depends on your perspective." He backed off slightly offended.

"Yea, my perspective says I ought to punch that luck out of you and take some for myself." She blew a loose hair out of her eyes. "But we got a schedule to keep."

"Maybe we can try something else later tonight?"

"Maybe."

Both of them finished getting ready and left the room. Leichner meet up with Wetz and another private who was selected for guard duty. They awaited their Umojan escort at the front entrance, all of them in fatigues rather than hard suits. Wetz had the look of someone who wanted to be done with it and headed back.

Diaz diverted to the streets and people of the city. Sure, they recently survived annihilation from the Zerg and were currently on an important mission, but a man needed space to breathe. So Wetz would rotate personnel on and off days during their trip here.

Down in the streets, the perfectionism and sleekness of Umojan design was an eyesore. For as much as Umojan tech was prized, they apparently didn't know the meaning of the word moderation. Diaz liked moderation.

He managed to find a more normal drinking hole after a ways. It was some cheesy name that was not memorable, so therefore forgotten upon entering. What was not forgotten was the low cut tops of the waitresses. Leichner would kill him if she knew, but thankfully he was his only witness.

"You look like a strapping young lad."

Diaz shifted to address a women in a tight fitting red dress, which looked too high end considering the environment. Her fragrance reminded him of the green pastures on his family's farm. And her eyes, eyes of deep blue to get lost in.

"And you're not slacking yourself either ma'am, no offense."

"I try my best to stay in shape." She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "By the looks of it I'd say you're on leave for the day? Correct?"

"Yea, I am...wait, how-"

"Did I deduce that?" She chuckled amusingly. "I can tell you're not from here by look alone. I'm sure you've noticed the looks the others have given you."

Sometimes there was no covering up your origins, especially if it was from an entirely different sector. Thus even out of uniform he garnered glances his way. Try as he might, his blood did not get with this planet.

"I've observed a few." Diaz put his own arm around her shoulder in return. "But what does it mean to you?"

"Let's find a seat."

They grabbed a corner table away from prying eyes. He assumed she had a bodyguard as one particular bulky fellow placed himself against the wall nearby. However his eyes were quickly drawn to another distraction, a pair of beautiful toned legs. She took advantage if the spacious bench seating and rested both legs on the table.

"Careful, you might get unwanted looks yourself."

"And what if that turns me on?"

"I, uh...I'm not sure."

She laughed. It was a carefree laugh, innocent and full of joy. "You're too easy a mark, soldier. My name is Erza Glennon."

"Diaz." He hesitated a moment. "So, do you always greet new people like this?"

"Only the ones I have a need of."

The rest of the establishments happenings faded to irrelevance. Diaz's first instinct was to stall and then look for an opening, just in case the worse may pass. He did have a knife in his back pocket if required. Considering the muscles on her bodyguard though, he would rather not be forced to use it.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I came here to meet someone who could help solve my problem." She dropped her legs off the table. "But behold you walk in, a soldier of the UED or whatever you call the remnants of it."

Maybe he should have worn a mask while out and about. "Okay, you're correct on that account. What does that matter?"

"You're stuck and alone in this sector. I can figure why your negotiation party is here, but do they represent everyone?" She leaned forward, showing off a small taste of cleavage. "For those that may want to stay, they need a job. I have a job for you right now."

"A job for us?" Diaz wanted to walk away but curiosity's death grip would not let go. "How fucked up is it that you need us?"

She eyed him a good minute. "In your time in the Koprulu Sector, did you ever hear about Alan Schezar or his experiments?"


	8. Chapter 8: A Job Offered

Authors note: So originally I was going to make the red dress lady Rosemary Dahl to tie in with the Dark Templar Trilogy. However, after looking up timelines, reading more into her backstory, and what I wanted to have my character know or be associated with, it didn't match up. So she is just the red dress lady...for now.

Chapter 8: A job Offered

Wetz had locked the door as soon as they got back. From the look on Diaz's face, they did not want to be interrupted. The end result did not disappoint. It seemed that they were not the first but rather the copycat themselves.

Diaz spilled everything, every detail he was given. A bottle of spirits was already opened on the table and glass emptied immediately after being filled. The drink was on the house, a consolation gift from their hosts. Whoever once said it was the thought that counts must not have had a heart.

"Well shit."

"Yea, that's what I said, sergeant."

The timing could also not have been more perfect depending on viewpoint. Wetz had just gotten back from a meet with government officials, and bottom line was not pretty. Time could heal a lot of things but not always rebuild a burnt bridge.

"Ironic, we might need a job as current policy is very anti UED. It also doesn't help with the threat of Zerg being as is. Even still, they'd be willing to make one exception." Diaz's eyebrows arched. "They want us to assimilate into the Protectorate."

Diaz did not blink. "And you said?"

"I'd think about it." Wetz shrugged. "It's not like we're going anywhere soon. If nothing else, it gives us a cushioned fall back plan."

"Guess it doesn't matter much as we're stuck either way." Diaz poured himself another glass. "No ship if we say no, a new commanding authority if we say yes. Fucking love it."

Wetz surveyed his options and they were not pretty. Of course, command would have final say. Those who disagreed could figure it out from there. Then there was also the Agria mission. If that went bad, well, that would tighten their choices.

But then there was this new job. "So this woman, she said she had some contacts right?"

"WIth Raynor and his Raiders, yea." Diaz's eyes lit back up again. "Sidenote, she may be able to dig up some info on our lost conscript, Duran. But even she doesn't believe it completely."

Wetz grabbed a glass for himself. "And all we need to do is track down this Schezar guy?"

"No, protegee of his actually. Schezar's already been taken care of due to protoss involvement some time back." Diaz rambled not knowing the exact history either.

"That sounds like a story to tell."

Wetz stood up and paced back and forth behind the chair. Jim Raynor, once an enemy but now possibly their biggest ally with common enemies. It was funny in a way, how once they had strode into this sector intent on bending it to their will. How wrong they were and how unprepared for what the sector threw back at them.

Diaz put his glass down and got up to stretch. "Also, the woman didn't strike me as a usual of the area. I don't think it's strictly Umojan on this one."

"What, the Protoss are involved again?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd have known if she was Protoss." Diaz ignored his scoff and continued on. "However, I wouldn't put it past them. Rumor is, Mojo as the Protoss was called, was rescued by Terrans on the first round. So there may be a debt still to be paid kind of deal."

Wetz stopped pacing. "Now that could complicate things."

Sure, Protoss were not all bad per some reports. Raynor was known to have had his fair share of interactions. However, unlike Raynor, the UED did not make a great first impression to them. It was only at the end, against their hated enemy Kerrigan that they fought together as one.

This proposition was not easy to digest. The mysterious woman made it sound all too simple, way too simple. But the pay off could be promising. The problem was the devil in the details.

"What do you want me to tell her?"

Wetz cocked his head with a wiry smile. "Keep her finger on the trigger, I'm intrigued."

* * *

 _Agria_

The one benefit of the military was you did what you were told, no questions. This meant decisions were made and shit got done except when it did not. Different sector yet same result.

"You accepted it?"

"No, not yet technically, sir." Wetz drawled as if explaining rules to a two year old. "However, I'm rather keen on keeping our options open since their less than usual quota nowadays."

McCullough realized that was a hard pressed point to argue. "I've many concerns with this which I'm sure you share at least some."

"I think we can safely say that's become the norm."

"Agreed." He was too eager for Falk's taste. "Even still, I'm game with our mystery contact."

"Alright, I'll get on...what?"

A few of the Agrians paused their work in the short silence. McCullough and Falk were in a local Command Center when they received an incoming transmission from Umoja, rerouted from their transport. They were in the middle of exchanging status reports and any newly acquired information.

"I said I'm putting my credits with the red dressed lady." McCullough leaned in on the console. "If some bastard wants to copy our work then I'm not standing idly by, count on that."

"Sir, you know, technic-"

"Yea, I know, fuck semantics. The point of the matter is we may have a case of a delusional madman other than Mengsk." A few snickers echoed from others. "Don't know about you, but one lunatic is more than enough for this sector."

The two shared an uneasy moment of silence. Wetz was all for eliminating potential threats to their safety, but not entirely at the cost of a ghost chase.

"I'm not disagreeing with you but we have other priorities right now." The calm demeanor held together through unseen clenched fists. "Jumping from system to system will more than likely get us involved in this sectors politics or the Zerg, neither of which end well. At least let Weston and the others hear about it first."

"What difference will that make, honestly?"

"Sir?"

McCullough rested hands on hips. "You said yourself we're out a ride. All we got on Balok is short range jumpers, nothing getting us back home." He tilted his head suggestively. "Maybe, just maybe Raynor can show us where our grubby hands can tactfully procure what we need with little trouble."

Wetz attempted to form words but only attempt. He wanted to mention otherwise but McCullough was right, more or less. Wetz had said to make the call but it was more precautionary than decisive. Falk seemed to be in midst of an internal debate on whom to side with.

Wetz partially gave in for now. "And what if we get pulled into someone else's fight?"

McCullough shrugged. "We might as well keep ourselves busy as long as we're here."

The nearby workers and technicians who had hovered nearby scuttled off, aware that the conversation was at a close or enough of one. Earth or Koprulu, eavesdropping would tick anyone off. But what ticked both of them off more was getting a simultaneous incoming transmission during their discussion.

Eyebrows raised, it had Weston as the signal identifier.


	9. Chapter 9: Culling

Chapter 9: Culling

 _Location: Arsta, Brontes System_

The atmosphere was hollow to say the least. The respective groups of Wetz and McCullough converged on Arsta, Dominion territory. Though to their benefit, the system's salvage yard was a higher priority and more of an outside target. Joining them was Weston and LaCroix with what remained of the 66th.

Zerg attacked Balor weeks ago. The stretched UED forces were even thinner now. Of the around four hundred or so initial survivors, they were barely a hundred left. A few small transports, one Siege Tank, three Goliaths, and two Vultures were all they managed to salvage outside small arms.

The dropship groaned in agreement of the situation as it overlooked the ravine below. Perched on an outcropping with the others, the figures took to the ship as it was the farthest away from any commotion. Weston sat in the left side corner closest to the pilot. The metal floor returned his stare in kind.

"Sir, what the hell happened?"

A stone statue possessed more movement than Weston. "What happened? Everything that shouldn't."

* * *

 _Weeks Earlier_

"Initial reports have both our sorties safe at their respective destinations. That's a start at least."

"But it doesn't take much once level ground is gone."

Weston poured a fresh cup of coffee quickly turned luxury. "Ever the hopeful confidant, LaCroix."

In the time passed, defenses and security had been improved. However the best obstacles could only do so much against numbers. The Zerg had numbers, a whole hell of a lot of them. Ideally their luck holds and the two teams report back quickly.

"I've talked with the other companies, by the way. No one's against but can make do in a new environment if worst comes to worst."

Weston grunted in acknowledgement. "I think we all shared that fallback whether we realized it or not."

He peered over the railing, people came and went through their makeshift command center. It was a combination of prefab sections and fabric coverings. Weston and LaCroix were making use of a breakroom on the second floor. The view was nice.

"Being a betting man, that pirate encounter over Umoja tells me we won't have a choice in the matter. Fuck it, we haven't had many choices since we arrived." LaCroix joined him against the railing. "It's all a damn game and we're just the players. The rules of the game suck."

"All the world's a stage, eh?"

"Yea, a real fuckfest of one."

"Hey, it isn't all…"

Then all hell broke loose.

"Proximity Alert! Incoming Zerg, attack imminent! Proximity Alert!"

The klaxon wailed as everybody reacted in protocol response. Coffee was pushed aside as they dashed towards the ComSat display. Sure enough it was Zerg, except that the bio signatures were slightly off.

"Sig, report!"

"It's definitely Zerg, sir." The operator paused, hesitant to say the next part. "They came out of of warp, on an infested Terran ship. Did they learn to operate our tech recently or is there something I'm not aware of?"

"That's news to me as well." The how was not important though. "Keep them tracked. LaCroix, since you mentioned it, prepare a worst case backup plan."

"Yea, I've got a bad feeling."

Weston bolted out of the command center to get a firsthand assessment of the situation. The rest of the base was already in motion, the gears turned second hand. The few missiles turrets they had set up spun round and searched for targets. Siege tanks braced in siege mode for the eventual ground assault.

Looking up, he could make out small specs far into the clear sky. Some moved faster than others but all undoubtedly moved towards them. With an assault inevitable, Weston grabbed his rifle and took up a defensive position by a nearby missile turret along with other marines.

"Sir, how many incoming?"

"More than I want." Even one was more than unwelcome. "But you know the drill, never let go of that trigger."

The dots grew larger as they descended. They did not immediately charge in as the overlords dropped off their cargo outside the range of their tanks. The mutalisks circled around, awaiting for the command to attack. These were no normal feral Zerg.

The opening volley of siege tanks was met with cries of the advancing Zerg. The first wave barely made it within their perimeter, any stranglers put down by gauss fire. They attacked prematurely rather than waiting for the entire swarm to unload off the overlords. A small light of hope burned, for a while.

That hope was squandered as the ground shifted. Not all at once, but rather multiple lines spreading from an epicenter, deterministic in nature. Before realization and cohesive responses could form, the tunneling Zerg revealed themselves. Utter chaos ensued.

Hydralisk, Zergling, and Lurkers garnered focus from the UED defenders. Mutalisks that circled like carrion crows moments before dived into the distracted marines.

"Sir!" LaCroix rushed over to their fighting position. "I got all the ships prepped for launch. From what i've seen, we don't have options."

"I've noticed. These bastards don't want to go down, not to mention they look almost partially mutated."

A Zerg was normally a menacing and spiny creature. But these Zerg, they had an extra layer of spikes. Some of them glowed a smoky green that protruded out of their carapace.

"You think Kerrigan having a little too much fun?"

"I'm not ruling it out."

Three Zerglings charged their position. The third came close but was mowed down just short enough, but the two Hydralisk behind had the advantage of range. Spines flew through the air and peppered their makeshift defenses. LaCroix took a spike to his non firing arm. Two of the other marines went down quickly. Thanks to a siege tank risking danger close fire, the two Hydras were blown to large bits.

"LaCroix, you alright?"

"Yea, just a flesh wound." He yanked the spike out through restrained pain. "Weston, we aren't surviving this if we stay here."

As if to further his point, the siege tank that just saved their lives took one to many hits as the turret popped off from internal explosion. The positive was it is easy to make a decision already decided for you. However, that does not make the aftermath any easier to deal with.

* * *

 _Location: Arsta_

No one felt a need to say anything. The heavy silence hung overhead. LaCroix rubbed his arm that was now in a full sling, lucky to be able to keep it. Others were not lucky to keep their lives.

A monotonous double beep repeated from the cockpit console. At first, nobody budged an inch to answer it. It was not until the fifth or sixth time that LaCroix moved to silence it. Except there was no identifier, it was scrambled under old Confederate code. Who the hell still used methods of the old Confederacy after Mengsk's rise to power?

At the same time, Diaz boarded the ship after Wetz acknowledged him to come in. Weston barely heard what they were talking about. Something about a job, that would be nice.


	10. Chapter 10: Shadows of Leadership

Author's note: I know this one is a little bit short. The reason being I already have the next chapter written and I kinda focused on that one more. Also, I originally meant for this to be a short/side story and don't want to turn this into a 100k project. I already have one of those going with my own original story among other projects. So I'm letting this one be a bit shorter as it still delivers on the story plot. I'll post the next chapter in a couple of days, spending some time with family this weekend first :)

Update: Combining the next chapter with this one. So if you already read it, then you got more to read now. Have fun!

 **Chapter 10: Shadows of Leadership**

The transmission slowly phased in. The face that appeared was worn and ragged beyond his years, yet the man was not even out of his twenties. Face recognition pulled a match from their copied files, Samuel Rhyst. Weston's eyebrows spiked at the next line. He was former Confederate and ghost operative to which would explain his specialized headgear.

"And to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" He spat as soon as the signal cleared.

"Weston, UED 66th." The next question was rhetorical but felt necessary. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Ah, my dear Weston. I'm but a simple man with a simple vision. But you may call me Rhyst, Samuel Rhyst."

"Okay?" Simple vision my ass thought Weston. The guy had chaotic written all over, the ghost fact notwithstanding. The day a ghost showed emotion was a day to stay in bed. "Why should I care?"

"I thought you'd love to hear about the results of my latest experiment?" Rhyst's face contorted suggestively. "I've become more of a scientist than a soldier as of late. Pretty sure my old instructors would have a fit or worse if they were still alive."

Weston leaned in on the console. "Ghost scientist, that's a new one."

"This sector is full of new things, most people don't realize it. Though I envy you, I really do. Experiencing something new firsthand is quite an event."

A shiver ran up his spine. "What are you implying?"

"So impatient my friend. I'm glad to see you're alive and doing well as not many others can say that, the trend in recent months. Kerrigan can be a real bitch at times." The monocle lens on his headgear zoomed in and out, damn telekinetics. "You know patience is a virtue, right?"

Weston could only deal with running in circles for so long. "I know that you're wasting my time. I know that I'm dealing with aftermath pertaining to some Zerg we barely escaped from! So as if Kerrigan wasn't bad enough, I got other shit to handle!" He broke to catch his breath. "You want to make your point or be courteous and end this transmission for me?"

Rhyst let Weston's frustration vent as he cynically smiled. His smile was painful to watch, the feeling he knew he had you at his mercy of tantalizing words. "You made my point for me, Weston." Riddles also climbed up Weston's pet peeve list. "I'm only congratulating you for making my test run successful."

It was one of those feeling where one knew it all along but could never break down that final barrier. But when what was grazing the fingertips becomes known, the body loses all sense of response. The connection was made. That was a test? He was a madman to consider playing with human lives a test, but of course, he was a fucking ghost.

Rhyst smiled with uncontainable glee as he watched the visual realization on Weston's face. The funny part of the whole thing was Weston could not entirely blame Rhyst. The Ghost Program of the old Confederacy was known for treating its cadets like lab rats at best, and that was being kind. It was supposed to be the ultimate weapon for them. Additionally, it also created monsters like Samuel Rhyst.

"Your Zerg forces?"

"In a sense. But they are living beings, so to say that I own them seems a bit cruel."

Controlling the Zerg was not impossible. Instead, it was the method to do so and all of which were noticeable. The Overmind nor his Cerebrates no longer existed and someone would notice a psi emitter before too long. Unless there was a central mind cluster to administer suppressants, but if not then the direct method was all that was left. Maybe, he was a ghost.

"Rhyst, I think the Ghost Program messed with your head more than you want to admit." Rhyst belted a laugh. "And yes, I know the basics of your past."

"My past?" He leaned in towards the screen. "You sure about that? Do you want to make another bet with your lives on it?"

"We know enough. Don't assume us easy targets, especially since you've put a nice big target on your back."

"A challenge? Hmm, you don't know the world of trouble you're getting into with a demeanor like that." Rhyst shook his head like a mother disciplining her troublemaker child. "I'm offering those who lived a second chance at life. I wonder how many of them will appreciate that you signed their death warrants? Move along while you still can, Rhyst out."

The unnerving image of Rhyst and his grin faded when the transmission shut off. Everybody in the dropship remained in stale silence, Weston's eyes never broke from the screen. Diaz shifted uncomfortably in the back and was the first to speak.

"Sir, about that job contract, well, there's your introduction."

* * *

Weston barged through the undergrowth intent on finding some solace to clear his mind. He had given orders to supply and equipment checks while maintaining radio communication in case of passing through ships. At this point, jumping on board the next frigate regardless of pirates might be their best bet. The 'job' would be given consideration after he calmed his emotions. He kicked the fern-like plant that almost tripped him before moving on.

The rumblings of the camp had dampened into soft white noise by now. Not wanting to stray too far in case of emergency, he looked for any kind of clearing with a fallen log or stump to sit on. Eyes scanned but found nothing except more fern plants huddled around the base of the trees. Could luck fall in his favor at least once?

Then Weston did a double take. He saw a small parting in the larger bushes up ahead and what was probably his best bet. His legs got moving again as the distance closed and a small stump could barely be made out, the upper part of the tree connected by a sliver to form a backrest of sorts. It was perfect. He reached out and stumbled on through into the clearing. What he had not planned on was a personal encounter, least with someone not human.

On a larger stump and tree at the other end of the clearing was a Protoss. His golden glow and smoothly curved and polished armor radiated a gracefulness that Weston had never seen before. The eyes burned a brazen and fiery blue when it looked to see who had entered the area, but only to dim and lower back to the ground. Why was he not sliced in two by one of those psi blades yet?

Weston knees were locked in place while a sweat trail formed on his forehead and trickled down. This was, unexpected, to say the least. Upon closer inspection, there were other recognizable features. The armor was not traditional Zealot armor but rather modified. It was familiar to one he had seen on a data feed before but just out of reach of his mind…

Artanis! Wait, why the hell was Artanis here?

"Because like you young Terran, my mind is troubled and in need of respite."

Weston almost buckled under the shock. They were like ghosts, telepathic in their communication. Supposedly it was more than that but he did not put too much faith in some of the theories. Artanis continued intruding on his thoughts.

"We are all tested in our respective faith. But that is a talk for another time, maybe." Their eyes meet again, the voice echoed inside his mind. "I did not sense you until the clearing. It seems that I have faltered more steps than I would like in my desire for solace, I will leave at once."

Artanis stood from his stump.

"Wait!"

He looked at Weston curiously, head cocked at a slight angle. Why Weston wanted to communicate with a Protoss even he did not know. The situation was already awkward as is. What exactly was there to talk about anyway, their feelings? Also, if Artanis could read minds then he already knew about being part of the UED. Weston doubted that made for a great icebreaker.

"As much as the Khala is emotion as words, I'm not in the best mood to speak about feelings. Instead, I'm trying to collect my own."

"Dammit." Weston muttered. The telepathy thing also made it awkward.

"What is your purpose here?" Even in the mind, the Protoss could be impatient. "This place is remote and rarely visited."

"Purpose? I, actually don't know." Weston shrugged and occupied the stump on his side. "I'm currently in need of...respite, as you quoted. And sorry if I stare, never seen a Protoss up close."

He really never had, others did though. So he read the reports and heard the stories. Giant but graceful, beautiful but deadly, warriors and assassins. In person, Artanis fit the bill purely from an aesthetics viewpoint.

"You wouldn't be the first. But you humans are also perplexing creatures, specifically your tribe." Artanis reclaimed his original seat. "We Protoss have observed your kind in this sector for some time and even met some face to face, both for better and worse. James Raynor mentioned your home planet, Earth."

"Raynor? That vigilante James Raynor?"

The fire within his eyes burned again. "That vigilante risked his life aside Tassadar against the dreaded Overmind and stayed behind on Aiur with Fenix, shutting down the only warp gate off the planet in the face of the Zerg swarm. Do not speak down upon his name."

"Fine, point well made." Weston almost needed to change his pants with the impulse of fury Artanis showed. "I'm glad he helped your people, but the perspective changes depending on where you stand."

"Yes, it does." The fire receded. "You have a home to go back to Terran, I do not. Aiur is another world claimed by the Zerg."

Weston paused a minute. They went to Aiur themselves to track down Mengsk and Raynor, only to have the Zerg intervene at the crucial moment all thanks to Duran. Duran was another mystery that created a separate headache. All that aside, Artanis simplified their situation.

"Home doesn't feel like home when you can't reach it."

Artanis bore into his mind. Weston would have immediately rejected the notion but was too curious where this was heading. Besides, it not every day that you get to have a one on one with a Protoss. In a matter of seconds, Artanis saw everything he sought and retreated out of his mind.

"If one cannot return home then there is no home to go to." His laugh felt like a refreshing wave washing over all the senses. "We're more alike than different it seems. What is your name?"

"Weston, just call me Weston."

"So I shall remember you as such." Artanis stood once more. "Alas, I must leave. After Kerrigan's victory, our people need to recover and rebuild. Though sometimes I admit that I do not want it, I will be asked and relied upon as a beacon. I sense you are going through your own tribulations and trials."

"Something of the sort."

"I wish you well, Weston."

Weston was rather surprised at that comment. "Our past history notwithstanding?"

"I have looked at your point of view in those matters." Artanis's eyes mulled over his next words. "There are some among you that are as misguided as the Zerg. But there are others that show there is redemption among your race. After deliberation, you fall into the latter. En Taro, young Weston."

Artanis was then engulfed in a haze blue light and phased out of sight. Weston alone now remained in the clearing with a host of new thoughts. His comm link activated, it was LaCroix.

"Sir, we just picked up a Protoss signal nearby. I recommend return-"

"I know, I'm on my way."

"Uh, yes sir…"

Weston was without a doubt there would be a question or two when he got back. No more delay, he stood from his wooden seat and headed back.

What would he say? He had a two-minute conversation with a Protoss, THE Protoss? Artanis would probably forget about him when he left the system. Weston stopped on his tracks, the thought finally and truly sinking in.

Wait, that was Artanis himself!


	11. Chapter 11: A Job Taken

Chapter 11: A Job Taken

Some would say a decision made in the immediate aftermath of tragedy only opens the path to more tragedy, or otherwise a lack of a level head. Others would say those first group of people do not know what the hell they are talking about. Weston preferred to lean towards the latter, with that tragedy and associated emotions having given him a clearer purpose rather than a clouded one. Maybe in some odd twist of fate, this righteous crusade of vengeance would change their recent string of outcomes. Maybe, a small maybe, they could get help from someone else who reserved a need of vengeance.

Weston had made the call. After the last Zerg attack, most of the ranking officers had been disposed of and battlefield promotions were quickly in order. So if someone wanted off for whatever reason then 'Arsta' was their stop. Diaz got in touch with his red dress contact and passed the word along they would take the job. However there was one condition, James Raynor. They wanted to have a chat with him if possible. She offered no guarantee but agreed to pass it on. In the meantime they got updated with what info she had on Rhyst and his special pets.

Their best lead was Auir, the home of the Protoss and once a base of operations for Schezar himself. There was reason to believe that the old facility was still in use as it was never destroyed when Schezar fled the battlefield, at least per any documented records. Weston would not be surprised considering Auir was still rampant with Zerg. If you were careful enough, many things could be hidden under all that chaos.

"Sir." LaCroix's voice echoed in his helmet. "I know you put it to a majority vote, ignoring the prevote intimidation speech, but jumping into a planet of Zerg puts most of us on edge."

"You'd rather be sitting on your ass?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

The five dropships cruised their way through space towards Auir. They had heard no word from Raynor yet, but Weston wanted to at least get eyes on their next target if nothing else. So off to the homeworld of the Protoss and its slimier inhabitants. Hopefully they would not cross paths with any actual Protoss, even Artanis. Despite his by slim chance encounter, dealing with one Protoss was different than dealing with many.

"Hey, LaCroix, we still black on our vigilante?"

"Not a blip since you last asked me."

"Shit, hopefully we don't need him for this part at least." Weston ran through what data they could pull on Auir. Initially it looked bleak, but then the gaps started to show. "I think I've got a decent read on the Zerg's pattern. We should be able to slip in a small force through their patrols, as long as Kerrigan isn't around."

"That, sir, is a scary fucking thought."

"Noted."

After enough anxiety had passed, they arrived outside of Auir's orbit. The sensors immediately detecting multiple organisms on the surface. The scans showed massive blobs everywhere but concentrated around nodes. They acted more disoriented than the Zerg the UED had been fighting. Was Kerrigan too far away or lying in wait?

"Scans are good, their layout matches our data." Weston hesitated. "That fact is worrying."

"When it's too good to be true, it usually is."

"Unfortunately I agree." He mulled it over, biting his lip harder than he would have liked. Shit is not supposed to add up. If it did, then you did something wrong. "We go in. Hit it hard and fast, then back the fuck out. I hate it, but I'm not lowering myself into Mengsk soldier ranks."

Mengsk was still technically an option as desperate times call for desperate measures. However, the desperation would have to reach rock bottom to go that route. Their lives would be food for fodder against the Zerg.

"You know, for the hell we're going into, the planet might as well look like heaven."

LaCroix would be the one to make such a comment. "Yea, and we just got to fight our way through all the devils."

Without further dissemination, the dropships entered low orbit of Auir. So far no Zerg contact, good. Further ahead there were some higher plateaus that rose from the jungle around it. Mostly hidden by crumbled rock and overgrown vines, a worn metal door dared to peek out from cover. The dropships landed on the same plateau as the door. Three fireteams disembarked, Weston included. He wanted to see first hand what was going on. Whatever fuckery that Rhyst was conducting was going to end by his hands. No Zerg contact.

They reached the door to find it partially open, forced open. Pulling away the vines allowed for passage through one by one. The lights on their combat suits turned on and illuminated the darkened interior. What once powered this facility had long since depleted its energy reserve. They were all inside now. Still, no Zerg contact.

"LaCroix, you catching a feed?"

"A little grainy but I got it." There was an audible sigh. "You should have let me go instead, sir."

"Too late for that now. Also, I have a better shot."

Weston heard him mutter through the comms. Yes, LaCroix should have gone instead rather than him due to rank. However, newfound personal grudge says to hell with rank.

"No offense, sir, but less side chat." Wetz broke his team off to the left side. "Moving up, I got your flank."

"Roger, I got main stage. Falk, you got B wing."

"Of course, the reject section. On it, squad break with me."

The confines of the facility were definitely Terran. The fact that Schezar was able to build this on Auir and operate out of it undetected was a miracle. Weston was willing to bet his next paycheck it was more complicated than it seemed, so would anyone else with common sense. Scanners showed no Zerg contact.

"Sir, I'm getting bullet casings, broken shit, and a few dead confederates." The comms gurgled with subliminal static interference. "Don't know what we're supposed to find here."

"Not sure myself, but hopefully I'll know it when I see it."

All he saw was doors jarred open off their rails, smoldered remains of automated defense turrets, and busted crates used as hasty defensive cover. The dull steel of Terran construction gave no comfort in their current situation. Then there was one other thing that took a minute to register.

"Someone on me."

The pounding of feet against metal plated flooring resonated behind him. "Sergeant Kratz, sir."

"Kratz, what does that look like to you over there?"

He followed Weston's beam of light that rested on a dead confederate, the armor punctured and covered in dust and dirt. A blackened taint of where the dried pool of blood stained the floor to his side.

"An unfortunate son of a bitch, sir."

"Besides that."

"Umm…I'm not sure what you're asking."

Weston nudged his rifle to emphasize his point. "This spot was his blood, so the blood next to him is someone else. Where's the body?"

Sure enough, there was a large long dried pool of someone's or something's blood. The body had been cleared after the fact. First thought considering the reports they had on this place and Schezar, immediate red flag.

"All teams, all teams." No need to take chances. "This is going to sound weird, but anyone noticed missing bodies?"

The comms stayed silent for about thirty seconds. "Now that you mention it, I think we got a few."

"Falk here, that's a copy on our end. Looks like some post battle makeup."

No Zerg contact.

No Zerg contact.

No Zerg...multiple contacts, incoming.


	12. Chapter 12: Schezar's Succession

Authors note: I had a sudden surge of writing and I've already got the next chapter done. Anyway, a certain someone makes his appearance finally. Also, thanks to Consort for the Ultralisk idea, it also gave me a creative way for our guest to intervene.

Chapter 12: Schezar's Succession

"Shoot and move! Reconvene in center!"

"And this is why we bring grenades." Wetz mentioned a little too eagerly from his comms. "Frag out!"

Explosions echoed inside the installation as repeated flashes illuminated the hallways. Zerglings and Hydralisks fought each other for a chance to shred their new guests. So much for a smooth operation, not that there was much hope to begin with.

"Focus your fire!" Weston directed a controlled retreat further into the facility. "They're at a disadvantage within these walls."

"Shit, new strain! Take it down!" Falk's voice crackled over the comms. "Hit the head, ignore the body!"

"All teams, looks like a main terminal dead ahead. Curve your path inwards."

The trail of dead Zerg mingled with the former Confederates, new blood with old. Air was scented heavy with a nose curling stench. Screams of hunger, fear, and death rattled eardrums. They came in a continuous wave without yield.

Up ahead, the hallway opened into a circular control area. Under chaos the marines made it to the room. The last one fired his parting shots before slamming the button to shut the large door. While soundly shut, it was not soundproof. The Zerg voice carried itself through the door.

"Thank the fuck they built double lock and layered doors for this place. This might hold them, might."

"Whether or not it does, Kratz," Weston calmly assessed their new location. "We got more important issues."

"Zerg knocking on the front door isn't an issue?"

"If we don't find an alternate route out, it's a moot point." Gunfire reverberated from two of the other connected hallways. "And there's our other two teams. Cover the doors, bring them in safe and alive."

His fireteam split between the two sources of noise. In a minute or two the other teams rushed into the room, Zerg in tow. The doors snapped shut and isolated the marines from any Zerg for now. Weston fiddled with the main terminal controls after assured the safety of his troops.

"The shitstorm was that? Lost two before barely able to return fire." McCullough vented. "How did the scans not pick that up sooner? They were virtually on top of us."

"Because, LT." Weston found his way into the basic interface and located a number of data files. "This is a maze of metal, which means sensors will not read correctly if not adjusted to an internal layout. Layman terms, I need to tap into the systems security to get a proper reading."

"Is that what you're doing now?"

"No, trying to find why this place was so damn secret." The files he began pulling showed Schezar had some interesting experiments. "Whether it was Rhyst or his predecessor, some bad shit went down here. I've got Zerg tests for days."

"What kind of tests exactly?" Wetz peered over his shoulder. "Also, thought this place was void of a power supply and I'm down one by the way."

"The kind of tests we don't like. And yes, it is more or less. I'm running on reserve which gives me maybe two minutes at most. Throwing up on the main display."

A large monitor lit up and engage its startup protocol. After ten seconds or so, the file information appeared. It was like a breeding ground. All kinds of tests with various chemicals and nutrients were conducted. Whoever was in charge, they wanted to create the perfect Zerg. One who was faster, stronger, and more menacing than others. Not necessarily a new strain but rather constructed of better material.

"The fuck is this?" Diaz scanned through the data. "They were creating Zerg on stimpacks?"

"Looks like it, and here's their main ingredient for one of the successful batches." Weston brought up another tab. "Ain't that something?"

"Wait, wasn't a shipment of that plant reported missing or attacked from Agria not long back?" Falk recalled the look of the plant immediately from the lab on Agria. "Zerg also attacked the facility where they were testing some plant effects, including that sucker."

"A new miracle drug for peak performance, sounds about right. I'm grabbing what I can."

The murmurs from others as the idea idea started to settle in. Zerg and Protoss were enough as is. Now a super breed was being introduced? The Koprulu sector was full of unwelcome surprises, so go figure what happened next.

Suddenly the screen blacked out. The power died and only their suits light remained. The display restarted, but this time it was showing an external source. This time it showed a face of newfound familiarity.

"Ah, my good friends." Samuel Rhyst appeared on the other end. "You know, I could've sworn I mentioned something about staying out of my business. I already gave you a warning shot."

"Warning my ass."

"Hmm, suit yourself. But I guess I should be appreciative of your intrusion." His smile was revolting. "Eliminating the evidence was on my to do list, but I've been so busy I never got around to it. Seeing as you're there now, I might as well activate plan C2. Goodbye, commander."

The screen blackened again. Any questions about what plan C2 were answered shortly, the red cyclic lights did not help. The facilities adjutant delivered the final message.

"Psi Emitter activated. Warning. Psi Emitter activated."

"The fuck they have one of those?" Sampson angrily moaned. "Sir, with all due respect, screw why we're here and time to evac!"

"Couldn't agree more." They had gleaned enough to get an idea of what they were up against. Additionally, he had pulled a list of locations before showing the rest on the main screen. "Let's find our back door out of here. Got a good hunch on where one is, leads out into the jungle."

Haste being understood, they exited one of only two unsealed hallways. The Zerg had found alternate ways of their own, their pursued screeches keeping pace. Through a barracks, then mess hall, some potshots at trapped Zergs in a holding pen, and finally back into another long hallway with intermittent branching paths to each side. An exit was just ahead and spines under their feet.

"Spikes from the sides!"

Lurkers had burrowed into the floor along the branches and picked off as many as they could that ran by. The spines ripped up the metal plating along its path. It was unfortunate, but they weren't equipped to deal with them at the moment.

"Run faster, all I got for you!"

Run they did, leaving a few more poor souls to the tally already there. The door was in sight. It opened on command and the lush jungle of Auir lay before them. Out of the infested installation they regrouped, if only for a moment.

"Valkyrie, Valkyrie, this is ground team. Need immediate evac! LZ is hot!"

Static, no response.

Then the worst sound possible to hear hit them. The loud roar of an Ultralisk. It was close, rampaging through the jungle to their position. They had no tanks or other mech for support. An Ultralisk was a death sentence let alone the chilling cries of nearby mutalisk.

"Valkyrie, Valkyrie, what is your God damn status?" The static continued. "Valk, answer now you…"

"...Well now, that ain't a nice way to talk to someone."

"The hell?" Weston knew he had heard that voice before, but where? There was a faintl sense of western twang in his tone. "Who hijacked this channel? Identify yourself!"

"No one in particular, but you can call me Raynor. I hear you can use some help."

"James Raynor? Vigil-" He remembered Artanis and his words. "You picked a hell of a time to show up but still music to my ears."

"Yea, sorry but some personal issues came up." The sound of a dropship diving hard edged closer and closer. "Y'all sit tight and find some cover. I'm about to make one hell of an entrance, then we leave pronto."

Raynor was not lying. When his dropship swooped in, a package fell from the cargo bay and landed directly on top of the Ultralisk that bore down upon them. The resulting explosion was a thing of beauty. Who knew, a bunch of spider mines armed and dropped like a regular bomb could be so deadly effective?


	13. Chapter 13: It's Jimmy

Author's note: So here I managed to fit in a flashback that is, in my opinion, the iconic moment of Starcraft. At least in Brood War, as I know the Kerrigan being left behind is also iconic too. But here is a moment that Blizzard and I come to a disagreement with SC2's writing. I added in my little lead-up bit and merged the quote from the game in. I hope I did it justice to my fellow Starcraft fans. Long live Fenix!

 **Chapter 13: It's Jimmy**

"Mighty fine show you put on." Weston grabbed his rifle he had tossed aside earlier and snagged an empty seat. "Why do I get the feeling you have a knack for shit like that?"

"Performing miracles?" Raynor shook his head. "Nah, I'm no magician, rather doing my part. If you want miracles then you might want to talk to the Protoss and their High Templar."

His black custom hardsuit was weathered and battle-scarred, a white Zerg tail imprinted upon the left shoulder. His face was aged with what Weston did not know. His facial hair had begun to grow in, which was a bit odd for someone who was always pictured with a five o'clock shadow at worst. Something felt off if this was the UED's idea of a dangerous vigilante. Weston must have missed something.

"I've actually talked to one, by pure accident of all things. I stumbled into a clearing I thought was empty, then, lo and behold I find Artanis himself."

At the mention of the name, a small glimmer of hope arose in Raynor's eyes. "Artanis? You've met him, one on one?"

"Yea." Weston nodded, partially in response and partially due to the rocking of the dropship. "Peered into my mind and all that bullshit. Was an interesting, sensation, to say the least."

"I'm sure it was," Raynor said, briefly turning to the pilot yapping about docking soon. "Looks like we're home safe. Don't worry about your boys, we picked the others up before coming for you."

"You got a freighter?"

"Even better," Raynor smiled, "None other than the former lead battlecruiser of the Dominion, the Hyperion. It was Mengsk's 'personal' ship before my team and I liberated it."

Weston made no attempt to hide his amusement of the image that popped into his mind. It was a very comforting thought that someone managed to sucker punch Mengsk like that.

"So, you got a message about us. What do you know?"

Raynor shrugged. "You want to kick some Zerg ass and stop some maniac from harming innocent lives. That sum it up?"

"Huh, more or less."

"Good, also I expect payment. The message never said from who and I doubt you've got a stash lying around."

Weston waved a hand. "On the money, as they say." He smiled. "Maybe Kerrigan can deposit to us what treasures she plundered so far."

He did not mean to speak those words aloud, but they shot out of his mouth faster than he could catch himself. The hard lines on Raynor's face tightened further than Weston thought possible. He had said it as a joke without thought. Nor honestly, did he know the entire picture of Raynors past. The UED and Dominion painted the image they wanted all to see.

"Until I say otherwise, keep that name out of it if we're going to work together on this." The gravel tone of his voice hammered down the sincerity of every word spoken. Weston made no illusions that pissing off Raynor might be one of the last things he should do. "Unless she's directly involved, keep your thoughts to yourself. You got me?"

"Yea, stay hush on your falling out, got it."

Raynor's hands moved faster than any man Weston had seen in a long time. The powered robotic hands grabbed his suit and would have throttled him under pressure if not for his own encasement of metal. So Kerrigan was a touchy subject and also still fresh in his mind, fair enough.

Raynor remained silent as he regained control of himself and slowly released him back into his seat, mumbling aside to no one. "Yea, that's one way to put it."

* * *

Outskirts of Augustgrad

The Protoss outpost lay in ruins. Not far away, a Terran base already succumbed to ash and Zerg. General Duke was dead. Mengsk was crippled with his top commander defeated and no longer a significant threat. Now Kerrigan turned her attention to the Protoss, the hopeless souls.

"You fight bravely, but you fight like a fool." Her voice was twisted and corrupted, mutated to the core. "Fenix, accept your inevitable fate."

The robotic Dragoon fired his phase disruptor and vaporized a nearby Zergling. "I won't falter at your threats, oh Queen of Blades. I stand ready for glorious combat."

Fenix echoed his thoughts psionically. The dragoon form encapsulated him in a stasis cell, maintaining his life support. However, his combat effectiveness was not diminished in this new form. Dragoons were killing machines as much as their Zealot counterparts.

"Then prepare for death." Kerrigan raised her bony wings and tensed her body, poised to strike hard and fast. "Here is where your life ends."

Fenix adjusted his phase disruptor and charged to fire.

"My life for Aiur."

They engaged in vicious combat and when the dust settled, Kerrigan emerged the victor. Her power unmatched, she stood over the broken robotic carcass of Fenix. Her victory was at hand and the taste so sweet. There was little to stop her after this. Fenix was on his last support and accepted his fate. It was not him that would stop her, but someone else might. He closed his eyes one last time as Kerrigan's winged blade pierced his body and ended his life.

"Fenix! No!" Nearby, there was one particular Observer that had been hovering over the battle. The feed led not to a Protoss Carrier or Mothership, but instead to a Terran vessel. Kerrigan sensed its presence and telekinetically pulled it into her grasp. James Raynor was watching from the other end. "Kerrigan, what have you done?"

Kerrigan could sense, no, feel who was on the other end and savored the moment in his torture. "What are you worried about, Jim? He died the way all Protoss hope to: in combat."

Her voice was in his head as if she was right next to him in normal conversation. "He died because you betrayed him. How many more noble souls do you need to consume before you're satisfied? How many more innocent people have to die before you realize what you've become?"

The battle around Kerrigan lost meaning as her focus was completely zeroed on the Observer. If needed, her minions would sacrifice their lives to protect her. The fighting drowned into nothing but white noise. On the Hyperion, a fury was building inside of Raynor, one that would not quell.

"You don't even know what you're talking about, Jim!"

Raynor leaned into the viewscreen on his end as rage partially blinded him. "Don't I? I'll see you dead for this, Kerrigan! For Fenix, and all the others who got caught between you and your mad quest for power!"

"Tough talk, Jimmy, but I don't think you have what it takes to be a killer."

"It may not be tomorrow, darlin', it may not even happen with an army at my back. But rest assured; I'm the man who's gonna kill you one day. I'll be seeing you."

* * *

Hyperion, High Orbit over Aiur

Weston and his remnants were huddled in the hangar around their dropships. Most had pulled crates to rest or play cards on, LaCroix had lost two games in a row. Falk and Wetz were in a deep discussion of who knows what. McCullough was eavesdropping nearby but had no intention of actually interjecting.

They were all waiting. Raynor said he would be back after he talked some stuff over with his crew. In the meantime, Weston got to inspect the Hyperion. She truly was top of the line and could see the care put into the ship even in one of its hangars. There was a level of polish and tech not often seen.

"I'm not going to say I told you so, but I kinda did." LaCroix ambled up to him.

"You did, but that's beside the point now." He motioned to everything inside the hangar. "We've made contact."

"And that means what exactly?" LaCroix whistled cautiously. "He doesn't know all the details and everyone on this boat may not necessarily agree with him. What if we get kicked off right back into the void?"

"Then I guess this is our new home."

LaCroix stepped back. "Say what now?"

"It might now be the most ideal, but it's the best we got. If this contract goes south then we don't have a lot of other options." Weston paused a moment for reflection. "Unless you want to be local militia on a planet like Agria."

"The food wasn't that bad so I heard."

"Same here, but I want to strive for something better."

Their conversation was broken up as the main access door to the hangar opened. Raynor had dumped his hard suit and truly became a new space age cowboy. A younger man walked with him who was shaved and dressed to standard, probably the ship's captain.

"Weston, was it?" Raynor bellowed as he approached.

""Yea."

They were now feet apart. "I've had a little round table discussion with my crew. As much as I or they don't give a damn about the UED and thusly you, the Zerg threat you've been tasked too involves us all." Raynor chuckled and showed some emotion for the first time. "It seems my trend of working with my enemies doesn't stop." He shrugged it off. "Anyway, we'll help you out but you're going to damn sure help me collect the payment."

"That's it?"

Raynor kept a level composure as he studied Weston and his crew. "Deal?

"Was hoping for nothing less." They closed the gap and shook on it. "Deal."


	14. Chapter 14: A Special Kind of Signal

Chapter 14: A Special Kind of Signal

"We've knocked off a number of those coordinates you gave us." Horner fiddled with switches of the display. "Most were destroyed or overrun. A few fresh, but most had been long disposed of. I guess your intrusion reminded Rhyst to clean house."

"I'm on edge for his thank you note."

"Well, you don't have to wait too much longer. We narrowed it down to two coordinates."

The display split into two separate planets with a red identification marker on each. One planet was Braxis and the second was Tarsonis, home of the former Confederacy. Secretly, he was hoping it was Braxis for the better.

"Sorry for your losses, by the way." Horner ignored the holographic planets and looked straight at him. "We've all lost something so you're not alone. That's the price of war."

Now that struck a nerve. "Price of war?" Weston shook it off. "A fallen comrade in war I can handle and wouldn't be here if I couldn't. Rhyst on the other hand, what he did was send men and women through an experimental meat grinder."

"As he said, we've all lost good people."

Raynor had made his way onto the bridge silently until now. His attitude of no bullshit was an easy read, and honestly his personality as a whole for the most part. Humbling himself to others did not seem to be a priority these days.

"Let me guess, a backstory you're not going to bring up because of reasons?"

He leaned in between Horner and Weston. "Something like that." They stared each other down for what seemed like minutes. It only reinforced what Weston had seen earlier, the eyes of a driven warrior; a man worthy of considerable concern. "How are the rest of you holding up?"

"Good, better than I thought they would. Some might even consider this a second home."

"Really?" Raynor raised an eyebrow. "Well, everyone's always hurting for manpower these days and we aren't any different. I won't turn down any applicants."

Weston could almost hear his conversation with LaCroix about where they might end up when it was all said and done. For as much as he had tried to fight for a ride home, going back to Earth was a longshot he did not want to admit. No one in their right mind would let able bodied soldiers walk with the ever present threat of Zerg.

So, right now the Raiders and Raynor were looking pretty good. They gave them a home base, food, and a job. He gave them a purpose in this sector. Plus, kicking Zerg ass had a sort of cathartic feel to it. It was like venting frustration out on a punching bag that never wore down.

"We got something." Horner fingers guided over the controls. "Old Antigan contact, sitrep, location Braxis, and...wait, they built another?"

"What is it, Matt?"

Raynor swing over his shoulder. A few more flicks of his fingers and the display change to a surface view of Braxis and one particular structure, both familiar and foreign.

"Whatever it is, its acting like a Psi Emitter. Probably partially built from the old disruptor that used to be operational there." If only it was as simple as that. "However, unlike the constant wavelength pattern that am emitter puts out, this is different. The report mentions early scans show a fluctuation, or at least something more organic."

"Organic?" Weston's curiosity was now peaked. "They care to explain it any further?"

"The only comparison it gives is similar to that of the Overmind."

The Overmind was long dead, thankfully. For something to be giving off similar vibes could only mean bad news. There was also the bigger question that nagged at the back of his brain.

"If it's acting like the Overmind, then others should have picked up on it." Weston shifted back and forth between Horner and Raynor. "How has this been hidden until now?"

"The pattern is similar in form, but not in substance." Horner pulled up the rest of the report. "From what I can tell, it's a unique signal only meant for certain types of receptors. We only know about it because of the coordinates you provided."

"Long story short, we got ourselves a different kind of Overmind."

"That's what the report says."

Weston exchanged glances with Raynor. "I'm willing to bet it also has a name, one Samuel Rhyst."

It did not take long for the Hyperion to correct course and make way for Braxis. Weston was eager for some payback now that he had Raynor watching his peripherals. His fireteams were set, the ice planet below them, and a final destination. If this was going to end poorly, then at least it was going to be a hell of a ride. And if by some chance they made it out alive of this fuckery, then maybe he might take Raynor up on his implied offer as others probably would. Because after the Zerg came Mengsk and the Raiders would give them plenty of opportunities to kick his ass.

Weston had his teams assemble in the same hangar they got dropped off in. Each one of them was ready to make the trip to the surface regardless of Zerg or human dangers. Raynor's men lined the walls and looked from the outside in, curious but also admiring the display in front of them. Even in dark times did the men of the UED show a high level of discipline. They oozed a sense of professionalism that Weston could not be prouder of especially under the circumstances.

"Everyone, I hope you are ready to vent some frustration from over the last few months." He paced back and forth in fervent vigor. "Momentarily, we will get to kill two birds with one stone as the old Earth saying goes. First, we get to exterminate some Zerg from this sector. Secondly, we hopefully get to show our recent acquaintance, Samuel Rhyst, what happens when you mess with the UED. I can definitely assure you, it won't be pretty."

There were a few laughs, not only from the UED remnants but some Raider onlookers. Raynors crew had warmed up to them over the course of their stay. When it came to the Zerg, it was not hard to find common ground. Weston nodded at the nearest ones in acknowledgment before he continued.

"What we know so far is that there is a Psi Emitter equivalent on Braxis that is most likely the central control system of Rhyst's pet Zerg brood. The exact same pet Zerg that decided to pay us a visit on Balok and almost wipe us out, and payback is a bitch. We're not sure what to expect once down there. All I can say, expect the unexpected. Any questions save for your team leads. We move out in ten."

Weston moved off to the side as each team made their personal preparations and was surprised by an interruption. "Nice speech." Raynor commented. "Why do I get a feeling you have a knack for this shit?"

Raynor stood nearby with arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. "Nah, I don't work miracles. I just say what needs to be said." Weston said with a shrug.

"Fair enough." Raynor took a moment and surveyed the landing party. "You think they're ready?"

"With the Zerg, there is never a ready. You can't prepare for the unpreparable."

"Well now," He slapped Weston's suit encased shoulder. "Looks like you and I may think along the same lines after all."

"Yeah, I guess so." Weston could not hold back a grin. "You ready for this?"

"I got your back up here as long as you kick ass down there, sir."

"As above so below, gotcha." They shook hands for what he hoped was not the last time.


	15. Chapter 15: As Below so Above

Chapter 15: As Below so Above

Braxis, a ball of constant snow and ice. The multitudes of planets in the sector meant that you were bound to find something that checked off the box of aggravations. While a combat suit was insulated to keep a soldier at optimal temperature in a fight, trudging through the snow was a pain. On top of that, the particular region they were assaulting was a series of natural trenches which funneled high winds between the cliffs. The combat suits could only do so much.

Their target was nestled deep in one of the trenches at a dead end, which meant only one way in or out. A series of overlapping bunkers, turrets, and other defensive structures formed a gauntlet to gain access. The building almost reached the top of the high cliffs, but the dish that sat atop poked out towards the sky. LaCroix swore that it looked identical to the one on the prior emitter.

Weston had his forces stage in a small nook of their own and far enough away to not trigger an early warning. Their plan was a twofold combination of air and ground. A marine detachment with Vultures would make for the main entrance and ideally draw fire. In the meantime, dropships take their Siege Tank with Goliath support to shell the enemy from the cliffs above.

The glue that held this all together to make it possible was Raynor. The James Raynor, former fugitive and threat to the sector per Mengsk and UED, would hold the skies and play overwatch during the operation. In the worst-case scenario, he was their only means of escape.

On the ground, the assault was underway as cold winds lashed man and machine. "Load it up, unless you want to be left behind on this iceball!"

"Calm your ass, sarge." A chilled voice shouted back. "We're moving."

"Diaz, tell me to calm my ass again and I'll light a fire under yours."

"Understood." He shambled up the ramp a little faster and fell in line with a familiar face. "Leichner, your ass freezing yet? Because honestly, his proposition of a fire sounds enticing right now."

"Almost there, but prefer another kind of fire though."

They took their seats and strapped in. Others did the same as they worked around the goliath that accompanied them. Even with restraints, the idea of evasive maneuvers with that hunk of metal in tow was worrying.

Diaz eyed the death reaping machine cautiously. "Well, we survive this, and maybe we can claim the first isolated room for a few hours."

"Hmm, if that." She nudged his arm playfully before catching Weston standing a little ways beyond the ramp watching all of them. "What do you think goes through his head in moments like this, Weston's?"

"Don't know, nor do I really care." Diaz rapidly tapped his fingers in succession on his knee. "But if I had to guess, then probably something about the fact he may be sending all of us to our deaths."

"Morbid much?"

The ramp began to close and blocked Weston and Braxis from view. "Nah, it's just more or less what's been going through my mind also."

The wind somehow ignored the progress of technology and brushed against Weston's skin inside his hardsuit. He occasionally unconsciously flexed his fingers or rub his arm, as if standing in nothing more than military fatigues. Symptoms of the mind and mental tricks were more common than wanted.

The last dropship was loaded and door closed. Snow blew into a flurry as thrusters pushed the group off the ground. The remaining boots on ground made final preparations for their march into the valley, their plan likely already turned to shit.

"Weston, we're up!" LaCroix was next to one of the two vultures that would form their spearhead and reconnaissance. "Waiting on you, sir."

Funny bastard. "Get them moving!"

There were some laughs as everyone fell in line. A fresh howling wind ripped through narrow cliffs and loosened snow, a few falling snowballs hit the ground around them. The march began and continued in light chatter. No one dared raise the volume more than needed as they closed the distance towards their target.

Raynor was hovering in the sky above. He mentioned that in his time with Fenix, he managed to procure an Arbiter under his specific control. However it got damaged when Kerrigan made her true intentions known, but it was not a total loss. Enough parts were salvaged to integrate it into the Hyperion. The downside, there was a limited lifespan of use.

As long as it lasted for this operation, Weston had more important worries to focus on. Their small force moved on in a staggered column for extra security. The station was maybe 500 meters or more away, close enough to start running through various scenarios. He had got word that the dropships had safely unloaded their packages atop the cliffs. If everything went to plan, they strike hard and fast.

"Weston, you read me down there?"

"Yea, a little static but I got ya Raynor." The cliffs made comms slightly unreliable but not as bad as some places on Char. "Probably will get a little worse in a couple hundred meters though."

"As long as I can hear something then it will do."

Weston took a gander at the sky. "I thought you said you had the skies on lockdown. You taking your sweet time or what?"

"Just hold onto your butts down there, I'm breaking through atmo now."

With the faint reverberation of capital ship thrusters, the Hyperion slowly broke through the cloud cover into low orbit above them. This move would reveal their position but Weston wanted the extra firepower. They were close enough to begin their main approach and stealth was more or less out the window at this point.

"You picking anything up?"

"Nah man, scans show a graveyard." The situation had trap written all over it. "The only thing I'm picking up is that odd signal from deep within that facility. I've got a bad feeling about this, it ain't right."

"Raynor, the day a situation like this warrants a good feeling is a dawn that isn't coming." They were closing in on 300 meters distance. "Some shit is bound to happen, trust me."

"No doubt, doesn't mean I'm a fan of it…" There was an awkward pause before he continued in a rushed tone. "Hold on, hold on now. I've got something. There's movement inside, or more specifically it looks underground. I'm betting that station ain't all that's there."

Weston called a halt on movement. "Underground network, not surprised."

"Yea, well it looks like a large one. I'm only getting faint signatures."

An underground network could be a little bit of trouble or a whole lot and then some. Ideally, they could ignore it while knocking out the dish and then pop smoke. The cherry on top would be crushing Samuel Rhyst underneath the rubble of his own doing. Raynor brought him back from his thoughts.

"If you're going to make a move, I'd do it now before any surprises."

"On it." Weston did not need a second opinion. He switched channels to the heavy hitter team on the cliff. "Bravo group, bring the pain down hard and fast."

"With pleasure."

In less than a minute, the beautiful ringing of siege tank shells sounded off and pounded the installation. Explosions followed hit after hit of the ensuing barrage. Not too long later, what remained of the giant dish crumbled into the building supporting it. The sight was refreshing to behold.

"You sure you hit it enough?"

"Well, we could do a little more for karma but I'd rather save the shells." However, Weston noticed the uneasiness that came across. "But I'm guessing you got something."

"Yea, I still got a signal. Its altered a bit but coming from the same spot. Something wrong man, like bad mojo wrong."

Weston observed the installation again. He spotted a path around the back that looked like it led into the cliffside, or more likely their underground network. There was the most likely path to the signal source. Trap or not, their target lay waiting below. He was probably going to regret this decision regardless of the outcome.

"Raynor, you good on standby for a bit?"

"I don't think my response matters all that much, correct?"

Weston looked over at LaCroix with no words needed to know they were on the same page. "Not really, but we're gonna go do a little cave hunting."


	16. Chapter 16: What Lies Underground

**Chapter 16: What Lies Underground**

 _24 hours earlier - Hyperion Bridge_

"Seriously? That's how that shit went down?"

Weston could not believe the cajones of Mengsk. He knew the guy was a tyrannical dictator, but to go that far was cruelty. At least their blood and sweat shed so far was justified.

"Snap of the fingers." Raynor mimicked with his crisp snap. "At a fucking whim, man, like he had planned it all along. I swear that bastard played everyone from the beginning and would have backstabbed me at one point if I had played along."

"Look, just to clear up any past grievances." Weston popped up from his seat and approach the middle display. "I realize I don't know your past and I was following my orders, but I think there was a lot of this sector that my men and I didn't understand."

Raynor curled his lips in amusement as he crossed his arms. "Well now, a UED officer admitting his wrongs to a vigilante like me. Huh, never thought I'd see the day."

A few chuckles from the others, even Horner looked up from his screen for a few seconds. Considering where they came from, where Weston stood was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum since then. Their mission was to subdue the Koprulu Sector by any means necessary. And now, they were using one of those means for revenge and tenuous survival.

"Hey, intel gets screwed up sometimes. There's a lot we didn't know coming here as you have so adamantly proven."

"Welcome to our little sector." Raynor relaxed. "You've got a lot to learn if you want to die of natural causes is this part of the universe."

 _Present Time - Underground Caves on Braxis_

The likelihood that natural causes would be in their future was not high. Weston expected the worse and hoped for slightly less at best, par for the course when dealing with Zerg. The tunnels were too tight for heavy machinery like a Siege Tank to maneuver around and thus they stayed on the cliffs. The Goliaths were also left as additional guards. Everything else was brought down with them, which included the two Vultures at either end of their column.

Icy blasts of wind failed to reach them anymore and there was a natural warmth the farther along they moved. The tunnel had the odd feeling of being alive despite its appearance of abandonment. The darkness called them deeper underground, wanted answers just around the next bend. Maybe Raynor picked up some more movement in since last check in?

"Raynor, you still tracking us?"

A short silence followed by heavy static. "As best as I can...signal breaking...damn tunnel inter…"

"Raynor, breaking off. Minimal signal. Copy?"

"Shit...figures, but I...careful." The comms went silent. Weston assumed the connection lost, but then a panicked Raynor returned. "Zerg...flyers approaching…asses up."

The line cut off. LaCroix had called a temporary halt and was now waiting on Weston's response. Like they had much of a choice, they needed to push fast. Raynor knew what he was doing and could take care of himself.

"Speed is now of the essence, and keep your guard up." The air dropped a few degrees. "Think we're about to embrace the chaos."

"You heard it kids, weapons up!"

Sergeants Wetz and Falk re-energized their respective teams. A Vulture's engine sputtered and roared back to life. The journey down into lower depths continued, but now the weight of what was behind them on their subconscious.

The tunnel widened, narrow side passages popped up intermittently. The hard rock turned wet and slimy. First signs of Zerg infestation. Weston pulled his hand away from the wall, sticky residue failed to restrain him. They were on the right track.

Then they heard it, close and aggravated. While aware of side passages, an opening in the ceiling was passed over. So they attacked from all three sides. Left, right, and above the Zerg attacked.

"Shift fire!" Falk pushed McCullough to safety as Hydra spines darted passed him. "Where's Weston?"

"Shit if I know, and thanks." He reset his feet and opened fire. "Try up front last I saw."

"Ain't that just fuckihg picture perfect. Get them to bring up the Vulture, we're falling back fifty meters."

The Zerg had basically cut the formation in two. Falk's group and Wetz's group, with Weston and LaCroix near the latter. Weston noticed this but unfortunately the enemy could care less. He had to move forward to prevent from being overrun, the swarm living up to its name.

Quick action and dissemination down, their front half of the column moved forward and deeper in. The Zerg thinned as they withdrew. Either the Zerg were losing number or they turned their focus to the column's other half, neither felt like the right answer. Weston ran whatever scenarios he could through his head and none felt comforting.

"LaCroix!" A suit with a large cut across the chest turned his way. "Get the Vulture back on point. We're going further in."

"What about the rest of the soldiers?"

"They'll either catch up or they're already dead." Weston did not cherish the possible predicament. "Gut feeling says we go for it."

"Aw hell. On you, sir."

The slightly damaged vulture backed off and retook the lead. One more turn and they reached an open cavern, soft whispers echoed off the walls. The center of the room was sunken into the ground with tight two man wide at best pathways spiraling down to it.

Nothing, nothing was in the middle of the sunken platform yet there was. Eyes can be deceived but completely blinded? No.

The cavern was empty but them, no Zerg. Their Vulture's engine purred as the driver surveyed the area. Uneasiness crept into them all, mostly Weston. It was no longer a gut feeling. His mind said something was there with them, and running was out of the question.

"Spikes." The man on the vulture turned to Weston. "Sit tight here up top. You'll be bailing us out when shit hits the fan."

"Don't you mean if?"

"Nah." Weston motioned for Sergeant Wetz to start moving. "I definitely mean when."

A cramped two man column marshalled down the nearest decent. A few stayed back to support the Vulture. Every step that Weston took rung hollow, a flash image of a dead man walking to carry out his sentence. But when did he ever see that?

vision had been clear enough to the point of seeing the sweat trail down the depressed faces of fellow inmates. However, he had never been to jail or visited one. This one also had Confederate Marines on guard. That was something if a relic at this point.

"Welcome, Weston." His, Rhyst, voice sounded off. "About damn time you showed up."

"Rhyst." Weston growled under his breath.

""Sir?"

Weston turned to the soldier next to him. "Rhyst, you didn't hear him?"

"Uh, negative."

A chill ran down his spine. Ghosts were one thing, but the Ghosts were an entirely different thing. He did not care for Ghosts at all.

"Oh Weston, you'll realize soon enough."

Another cackle from Rhyst or the ghost of him anyway. The pathway ended and they had reached the ominous center. Immediately the whole scene was off, squishy off. Every step felt an unfriendly familiarness of a surface that lacked any firmness. Weston looked down and saw rock, but instead it felt like Zerg Creep.

Rhyst only laughed louder.


	17. Chapter 17: Mental Madness

**Chapter 17: Mental Madness**

The facade slowly crumbled away as the cloaking field shut off. It was not only Weston who heard the laugh, everyone scanned the area with weapons at the ready. The once solid rocky ground fizzled out and Zerg Creep appeared in its place, as the floor squirmed alive beneath their feet. Rhyst was a melody to the unveiling horror.

On the far end of the arena, the camouflage faded to reveal an open metal platform. On top of that platform was a giant worm creature known as a Zerg Cerebrate. Connected to the Cerebrate at the base was a Terran contraption of sorts, something similar to an armored outhouse. The door hissed loudly and slowly raised open.

Even sealed, Weston could have guessed who was inside. Sure enough, as the coolant evaporated did Samuel Rhyst step forward in full Ghost gear. The smug smile hidden underneath his mask annoyed the fuck out of Weston. It was time to end it, right here and now.

"Samuel Rhyst!" Weston aimed his rifle as he slowly encroached. "It would be in your best interest to cooperate with us, otherwise it ends ugly."

As if Rhyst's laugh could not get more under their skin, it did. "Cooperate?" He slightly cocked his head to the side. "Let's not delude the situation, you want me-"

He never finished his sentence. Instead, he ducked with Ghost reflexes and hugged the slimy ground in the front leaning rest. Smoke wisped from Weston's rifle. Everyone else had their weapons trained on Rhyst but watched the exchange as bystanders.

"You're right. The hell was I thinking of treating you like a human being."

"Hmm, you don't know the half of it, Weston." Rhyst shifted to a crouch. "You think the Queen of Blades is your worst nightmare, let's change that."

His eyes, they glowed with an unnatural yellow hue. Before Weston could pull the trigger an explosion drew his attention. The Vulture that had been their vanguard exploded as Hydralisk emerged from the cavern tunnels, the Marines nearby scattered. Other tunnels began to spew Zerg as well.

"Defensive ring, use the defilades!"

Survival became priority number one. Weston's attention turned to survival as Hydra spines peppered the area, a few soldiers were already down. Then he felt a pull coming from the direction of Rhyst. He turned back, a hybrid kind of fear entered him.

Rhyst was not human, or mostly human really. Pusses of mutation encompassed one arm up to his shoulder while his skin looked more stretched than normal. Then the image flashed away and his normal ghost suit reappeared. Fucking mind games, Weston cursed under his breath. The ground shuddered and a small section of the floor fell asunder. Rhyst smiled, almost beckoned, before he jumped into the newly created opening. Weston could not decide whether it was his own judgment or a ghost influenced decision, but either way, he was going after Rhyst. This was to end right now, to whatever end.

"LaCroix! You're in command!"

"Why? The hell you-"

The rest of the words were pointless. Weston had charged forward towards the pit, suddenly oblivious to the surrounding chaos. Once at the edge, he could see that it led to another series of subterranean tunnels. Though these were more narrow and intimate than the ones above.

Weston jumped down, the faint haunting echo of Rhyst laugh just barely out of reach. His breathing was heavier. The visor slid back to let his natural vision take into account the tunnels. Crystals spotted the hardened dirt, softly illuminating the confined space with a blue hue. Whether he wanted to or not, it was up to his eyes as the crystals messed up his visor's sensors.

Each exhalation was visible since the temperature had dropped in degrees. Thankfully it was still within range of his suit. His fingers tightened their grip on his weapon and brought it to the ready, the gunfire above dulled. Rhyst was near and he could feel it.

"Oh Weston, you've come so far." Rhyst's voice pierced his mind. "But the only accomplishment here will be your failure and eventual death on this frozen tomb."

"You sure about that?"

Weston's voice echoed off the walls multiple times. Physically speaking was probably unnecessary considering who he was dealing with. Even still, it calmed him like a mental anchor in a psycho-metaphorical storm as Rhyst continued.

"It's just you and me down here. I gave every advantage over your Marine training."

Weston cautiously walked forward under a combination of crystal and hardsuit lights. "I think I got enough to at least take down that Cerebrate of yours whether or not we get out of here."

"Hmm, ah yes. But that would be an annoyance at most." There was a shift in the air, and the chill no longer there. "Just like the perception of your surroundings, you don't fully understand the situation."

The air was now hot as beads of sweat started to drip down Weston's forehead, more mind games. "Isn't that Cerebrate key to your control? The signal didn't stop when we knocked out the dish above ground, more of a slap on the wrist."

"There are more Cerebrates in this sector than even I know what to do with. I only need this one to kill you and get the rest of you off my back, temporarily anyway."

"Huh, you hiding another secret project?"

"You're going to die before you find out."

Weston sensed it coming but could not react fast enough. Rhyst had dropped from the ceiling, despite a lack of an opening, and pounced on his back. The inertia knocked Weston to the ground. He hastily grabbed his loose weapon and rolled over onto his back. There was nothing there, just the empty tunnel.

Weston was getting fucking sick of mind games and Ghosts in general.

"Behind you, Weston."

Weston spun around. "Enough ga-"

There in front of him stood LaCroix, a bloody gash across his forehead. His armor was torn up with multiple Zergling strikes. His weapon still burned with fumes of expelled shells. The hell he was in the tunnels?

"LaCroix, what's the current status?"

"Sir, it's hell up there and not many left." His eyes twitched one too many times. "We need to find another exit, and I may ha-"

"That won't do." Weston shook his head. "This was a one-way mission, no backing out."

"I don't disagree, but there is a fine line between determination and madness!"

Madness, that was a decent summary of the current situation. Weston soaked in the death stare that LaCroix gave him. In a way it was a reminder that he was still alive, and actually feeling a chill run down his spine from LaCroix's almost dead eyes. At least it gave him an idea.

"Hey, humor me a moment okay?"

"Sure, because it's not like we're fighting for our lives against the Zerg right now? But, as you must."

That made Weston laugh a little. "How did we end up here?"

"And what in the hell do you mean by that?" LaCroix cocked his head confused.

"I meant what I said. Who sent us on this goose chase?"

LaCroix gave him a 'you're fucking crazy' lookover before responding. "Diaz came back with a job offer from a pretty lady. Then that bastard Rhyst contacted up about the same time, saved us some trouble in a way."

Weston's mind ran through the events as LaCroix mentioned them. Everything was clear as if it happened that morning, and also the emotions that came with. Weston placed his empty hand over where his heart would be. There was no practical purpose for this as a beast could not be felt through the armor. Rather, it was hoping for the best outcome.

"Yea, that sounds about right. What about my siblings?"

"Siblings?" LaCroix's face scrunched up. "What importance does th-"

He could not finish the sentence. Instead, a newly brandished hole was embedded into his forehead. Weston lowered his rifle to admire the shot as LaCroix shuttered and then collapsed backwards to the ground, an uneasy silence embellished the air. Weston cracked a smile for the first time in a while as parts of the tunnel seemed to shift in appearance. The hardsuit of LaCroix started to melt away.

"I'm done with your mind games, Rhyst. I may not be a Ghost, but I've got a stronger mental will that you give me credit for."


	18. Chapter 18: The Rhyst Call

**Chapter 18: The Rhyst Call**

Time, Weston had lost track of it as soon as he jumped down into the tunnels. He was also unsure of how many illusions he had come across to this point. The statement of a strong mind was not a lie, but so was not being a Ghost. Hell, such was the situation he found himself in. He had seen LaCroix to his parents and his only son who might as well be lost to him at this point. The mind is a fucked up beautiful place, and his was one of the worst.

Shells exploded around him, but nothing more than figments of the imagination. It was the last battle he fought in back on Earth. Some upstart smaller nations aimed to cause trouble for the United Powers League. At least, that's how the media spun the story. He didn't even bat an eyelash as a nearby squad was mowed down once their makeshift cover was destroyed.

As to where on Earth Weston was? He had no idea. Some backwater area that had refused the technological and economic benefits of the UPL, or something like that. The continual bombings had not helped to jog his memory either. What was once flat ground was now a field of potholes and hasty revetments. The city in the distance sported multiple pillars of rising black smoke.

Weston scanned left and right. Rhyst was hiding here somewhere, a ghost in the shadows. At some point, he would have to show himself again if any lasting damage wanted to be had.

"Rhyst!" Weston yelled into the raging battlefield. "I'm getting tired if your bullshit. Let's hurry up and finish this!"

The gunfire remained unyielding.

"Rhyst!"

Others glanced his way in confusion at this madman.

"Show your ugly and ass infested face you pig sticker!"

Not even the screeching engines of a low flying Wraith made him move an inch. The soldiers nearby stopped their return fire to observe this crazed man in their midst. A few looked like they were about to put him down for his own good, one in a group of three was.

"Gotcha." Weston could not help murmuring to himself like a gleeful schoolgirl.

He aimed and pulled the trigger. The fellow marine went down fast, much like anyone with a hole in their temple. He stepped forward to inspect his work only to stumble to one knee. A new hole through the leg will do that to anyone.

"Dammit, Rhyst you little-." A rifle buttstock to the back of his head cut the sentence short. Yea, probably should have kept the rear helm shielding raised.

"You know, Weston, I do admire your mental will." Rhyst strolled to his front and knocked his rifle a few feet away. "Of all those I've met, I can say without doubt that you've been the most resilient of them all. Hmm, if only that idiot Schezar could have met you himself."

"Sorry to disappoint." Weston scraped a handful of dirt as he clenched his right fist. "Can't help me be me I guess."

Impulsive and reckless, he lurched forward with a closed right fist only to connect with air. Rhyst had eluded his aim and returned Weston's action in kind with a roundhouse kick. The end result was Weston and the ground with a face to face meeting and his rifle now a few feet further away. The rest of the imaginary soldiers around them had returned to their predetermined routines and ignored them. Weston and Rhyst were two gladiators in a vacant memorial arena, or two actors in a film stuck on loop. Either way, Weston hated it.

"You don't know when to quit do you? I understand determination don't get me wrong, but you?" Condescension must be a highly regarded topic taught in the Ghost Academy here. "I figured you for a practical man. You've lost, you're men are dead or shall soon be to my Zerg, and your new friend Raynor can't do anything to help you in time."

"You sure like to run that mouth of yours."

"I'm a man of the people, of sorts, and I like getting to know others rather personally." Rhyst playfully tapped his rifle like it was a kid's toy. "But I guess you're going to be one of those people. The ones who go down fighting beyond logical reason. Honorable no doubt, but so hopeless in the end."

Rhyst had enough of the rifle and turned on Weston. With agility only a Ghost possessed, Weston saw the business end of a C10 Canister Rifle. The smirk on Rhyst's face was insult to injury.

"Well, I think this is where you and I part ways. I'd say it's been fun, but really, you've been more of an annoyance than anything else." He shrugged his shoulders. "At least you're men made excellent test subjects."

Memorial illusions continued their infinite loop around them. This was his end. True to Rhyst's words, Weston was not one to give up. However, he was no fucking Ghost nor possess any superhuman agility. Well, good thing he did not put all his credits in living through the UED Expeditionary Force adventures to begin with. A second longer and it was lights out...only.

"Arghh, dammit! Dammit!" Rhyst dropped his rifle and collapsed to one knee.

For whatever in the nine levels of hell was going on, Rhyst looked like he was in the middle of a brain aneurysm or a stroke, or a combination of both. He clutched his head in pain. Meltdown aside, Weston acted with the opportunity given. He bolted for his kicked aside rifle and aimed it back at Rhyst still trying to collect himself. He noticed one other thing, the scene around him had stopped. They were back in the underground tunnels and more specifically in an open central room.

"This shouldn't be happening." Rhyst seemed to have regained most of his composure. "They were outnumbered. Who the hell intervened?"

"Rhyst, you talking to ghosts?"

Weston wanted to blow his brains out right then and there. He could not bring back the dead, but at least he could get some payback for his fallen comrades. However, killing the only person, or thing maybe more accurate, would leave him surrounded by feral Zerg with no easy escape route. Restraint would win out for the moment.

Rhyst took a deep breath and let his arms go limp by his side. A small and irritating smirk crept from the corner of his lips. Normally one could pick up tell tale signs from a person's mannerisms. Samuel Rhyst though, he was about as readable as snowstorm on Braxis. The guy was a Ghost and a madman at minimum.

"Weston, oh my dear Weston. It seems that you've also got some loyal and, dare I say, hard to kill allies." Rhyst picked himself back up to his feet. "There is a chance that I might lose this battle. Somehow, you're bastard friends killed my Cerebrate AND severed the mental connection with my Brood. That takes a special skill to achieve that extra mile result."

"Really now?" Weston started to calculate his remaining options. One factor was out of his control which made it easier but also harder, which honestly meant not a lot has changed. "Don't look at me. Raynor though, he seems like one to have a few tricks up his sleeve."

Rhyst fists clenched hard enough that Weston swore he was going to see blood seep through the fingers. Despite that joyful revelation of news, his situation was twice as fucked with a pissed off Ghost fifteen to twenty feet in front of him. The aqua glow from embedded crystals dimly illuminated the chamber that held their stare off. Fuck it, it was all or nothing now.

Weston pulled the trigger but Rhyst was faster being the Ghost that he was. Spike after spike missed the mark while the intended target closed the distance. Under ten feet with knife blade out and hungry, Weston was a dead man walking. The usual steps of panic raced through his brain while the multiple layers of training and battle restrained them from taking over. But it was at that last lunge that Rhyst faltered, it was where he lapsed for one of the few times in his Ghost career.

Whether it was another one of his Zerg connection interruptions or he simply fucked up, Rhyst stumbled on his last evasive slide and lost his footing. Weston adjusted aim and fired. Two spikes through his stomach and he went down. Deep breaths, many deep breaths before Weston calmly lowered his rifle to observe the result. He inched his way forward to see how accurate his last two really were.

Rhyst was down and what looked like for the count. The two impact marks were soaked with blood and a small puddle began to form on the ground. With wounds like that and no Medic, the chances of pulling through were slim to none. Weston had seen it one too many times and bleeding out was the worst way to go. Second thought, it was up there but Zerg and Protoss might beg to argue it.

A wave of relief passed over him. By no means was he out of the fire, but at least a much deserved reprieve was gained. Though now looking at Rhyst more closely, the reprieve felt wrong and unearned. There was one obvious hint that could not be overlooked now the Ghost mask apparatus had been pulled off.

A dying man should not leave this existence with a smile on his face.


	19. Chapter 19: Raynor's Raiders?

Author's note: So this is the final chapter of the story and I wanted to address one or two things. First off, yes I know I could have gone in deeper and explored a lot more. This was my first fanfiction attempt and thus I went about it a certain way. So yes, I could go back and further expand each chapter and edit in a lot more stuff. However, I'm like 99% likely to NOT do that. I kinda want this to be as is, so I can always reference it as a reminder and learning experience of where I was as a writer at this point. This brings to me to a second point/observation.

I had a blast writing in the starcraft universe. Granted, I have some reserved opinions about SC2 and the way Blizzard took the story, to a point that I don't consider some things canon. But all said and done, I'm willing to continue the story of Weston or create more characters to explore the Koprulu Sector with. There are so many side shenanigans that someone can get dragged into in space.

Lastly, thank you to everyone that took the time to read this crappy fanfiction lol. I do not claim to be a great writer, rather just a guy with a very very overactive imagination who likes military stuff. I look forward to those that join me on my next adventure. Without further ado, the last chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 19: Raynor's Raiders?**

Coldness, a dimming light, air slowly leaking out of the body. Rhyst had all the signs of a man marked for death. However, that smug grin would not go away. Weston could care less about the man's feelings or opinions. Still though, he edged closer. Something about Rhyst drew him in beyond the Ghost psychic bullshit. Weston needed to know before Rhyst passed on.

"Alright, you care to share our dying secret or are you going to take it to your grave?"

Rhyst eyed him back. "I have many secrets, more than you can guess." He coughed up blood. "You really don't know what you're in for. I've glimpsed into the the Zerg Hivemind, I've seen what's coming. And you, Weston, no one is prepared."

"Save me the 'Burn this sector to the ground' speech, Rhyst. I figured you for a crazed man but now I know you've lost it."

Weston lined his rifle up with Rhyst's forehead and finger on the trigger. Again, something unnatural bode him not to pull it, least not yet. He observed Rhyst's dying body as it made no attempt to reach for the nearby Canister Rifle.

"I've lost nothing, nothing in the long term anyway." He gasped for any breath of air. "I was destined for death's door at some point. Whether by your hand or by someone else's, maybe even from a past ghost of yours."

"Funny, think it's time to end this." Ghost, a past ghost. Did he mean a Ghost, or a ghost? "Let me help you live up to the name. Just do me a favor, go haunt that bastard Mengsk a bit."

"Dur-"

Rhyst barely spurted his next word before a spike penetrated into his forehead and through his skull. Weston let the smoke from the barrel dissipate before lowering it away, satisfied that Rhyst's grin was wiped away. Still, that unnatural feeling lingered around him. There was no way that that name was about to be mentioned. There was no such thing as real Ghosts. No, he must have misheard.

Weston put the event behind him and sluggishly retraced his steps as best he could back to the hole he had foolishly jumped into. It felt longer than it actually was, or maybe less. The consistent blue hue played it's own mind games without the help of a Ghost. Eventually he made it to what he thought was close to his starting point. That's when he noticed something along the floor. Footprints, there was another pair...in addition to his and Rhyst. Upon closer inspection he found it to be familiar with another nonhuman race.

"The hell wa-"

"Weston!" LaCroix's yell echoed through the tunnel. "Weston, you alive!"

Perfect timing as always he thought. Continuing on, he was greeted by a number of flashlights from both suits and weapons. LaCroix immediately reminded everyone not to fire to which Weston was thankful. They exchanged some quick conversation in which Weston briefly relayed the fate of Samuel Rhyst. LaCroix did the same in regards to after Weston disappeared down the hole. Turns out, McCullough and Wetz's group that got split pushed through once they regrouped. With their help they overwhelmed the Cerebrate and killed it, sort of.

"What the hell you mean you didn't kill it? You either kill something or you don't, there's no inbetween on these kind of matters."

They had reached the hole and were being assisted back up to the central arena floor. "I call it as I see it and that's what I saw. We pummeled the shit out of the thing, but it looked like it suffered from another attack that we couldn't see."

"Great, more ghost stories."

"Hey, you don't think it was...you know?"

Images of the other footprints quickly flashed in Weston's mind. "You think we have a guardian angel? Fuck, it could happen."

"Yea, a lot of things could happen." LaCroix climbed out of the hole. "Speaking of such, I think Raynor called in a favor though he may not admit it."

Weston regained his footing out of the hole to see the rest of his soldiers, though dwindled by casualties. The lifeless carcass of the Cerebrate remained where it originally was though punctured by many holes. Yet, there were more Marines than they had started with. Other suits were mingled in with theirs and bore marking similar to pirates of this sector. Looking again, one of the patches looked very familiar. Weston had perused some documents about local militia's when he came across the exact same one.

"So where's my gratitude for saving your ass?"

A harsh female voice disturbed his thoughts. He turned to face one who was not in the traditional marine hardsuit or one of the pirate hardsuits. Instead, she had something akin to that of a Ghost suit if anything else. A pair of goggles rested on her forehead which sprouted vibrant pink hair.

"I can't argue you helped, but I wouldn't put it all on you just yet." Weston approached to shake her hand. "I'm Weston, and yours is?"

"Han, but you can call me Mira." She returned his shake with a surprisingly firm grip of her own. "I was in the area and a common friend asked me to help out if I could. What could I say? Zerg are bad for business."

"Nice to know Raynor has multiple friends to rely on."

"Raynor?" Mira looked shocked. "He's caused me more trouble than good. It was that handsome man Horner. If I could snatch him away from Raynor for just a few minutes, I could…" She trailed off, realizing what she said out loud.

"Before you say anything else you shouldn't, let's get the hell out of here."

"Um, yes. I agree with your decision."

* * *

 _10 hours later_

 _Bridge of Hyperion in orbit over Braxis_

"She said that?" Raynor was rather amused by what Weston told. "If I recall correctly, which I do, Mira wanted to help us out more than us asking her. She uh, has a thing for Horner."

"Really now? I'll keep that one in my back pocket."

Weston flipped through recent reports displayed over the central holotable. While he was down there having his fun, a variety of reports regarding the Zerg had trickled in. Some of it he was sure Rhyst had a hand in. However, there were a number that had Kerrigan written all over it, or rather the lack thereof.

"So Rhyst is gone?" Raynor returned his gaze amongst the stars. "I mean gone gone, for good."

"Yea, a spike through his brain. It was close enough that there was no way to miss."

"Hmm, let's hope there isn't another prodigy of Schezar that crops up out of nowhere."

Weston closed the reports and joined in Raynor's gaze. "With the crazies in this sector, I'm not holding my breath."

"True, but do I fall into that category also?" Raynor turned a questioning glare Weston's way.

Weston debated his response and actually enjoyed a chuckle out of it. "Without a doubt, you're probably up there at the top."

"Bullshit, this is the one time I don't want to beat Mengsk in something. That bastard better be higher than me."

"Well, lists are always subject to change. So, you know."

Raynor brushed him off to enjoy the view once again. Weston felt an odd calm. They had come to this sector as conquerors but now were at best refugees, and along the way a few perspectives had changed. Whether or not now was the best time to ask, he needed to bring it up. Some things were better resolved sooner rather than later, and he needed an answer sooner.

"Raynor, you mentioned something before we went down there. An offer to me and the rest who survived." Raynor's head remained stoically forward. "I've had many talks with more people than I can count. You mentioned something about potential job openings. They still available?"

"Depends, on one thing mainly." Raynor finally turned towards Weston. Eyes that had seen more than a man's fair share of bullshit looked back at him. "Can someone from Earth follow orders?"

Weston did not falter. "If that person giving the order can take criticism, no question."

Both kept a tight lips, dead eyes, and a posture that told anyone else to stay the fuck away from the both of them. Raynor cracked first. He laughed and then relaxed his body as did Weston. Such was the scene to an onlooker that it seemed like two old war buddies remembering the good times. Of course, that analogy is bullshit as there are no good times but rather times that are less shittier than others.

"There are no take backs." Raynor held out a hand. "If you want it, then you're welcome aboard."

"Not like I got a ticket to Earth waiting on me at the moment." Weston gripped his hand. "Consider us onboard this crazy train for what it's worth."

Just like that, from Echo Company of the UED Expeditionary Force to members of Raynor's Raiders. The thoughts of family seeped back to the surface. Weston understood the implications of their decision as did everyone else. This was a new chapter more than anytime before. There was no going back anytime soon, so they might as well make the best of it. The glimmer of dying stars seemed to agree with the decision as they bore their beacons of light amongst the dark sky.

"Sir, we're picking a signal."

Horner had returned to the bridge without Mira. He immediately resumed duties over the holo display when the signal popped up, a fast flickering red dot. Raynor and Weston shifted over to inspect it more closely. The display showed its trajectory and origin point as well. Braxis, the far side of the planet.

"Matt, what is it and why did it set off our detector?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Horner fiddled with the console buttons. "It's a ship, very small size for a couple of people at most. But as to why...the signal."

"Signal?" Raynor looked at Weston for any confirmation but received none. "What kind of signal?"

"That's interesting actually, really interesting."

"Matt, spill it before-"

"-yes sir, it's the signal from before." Seeing that both Raynor and Weston were waiting for an explanation, Horner continued on. "The signal from the emitter, or more accurately, the tunnel network hidden underground. When we picked it up it must have embedded its signature into our tracker systems, most likely as a byproduct. Normally this vessel would have flown by without a blip."

"But?" Weston's stomach was not agreeing with where the conversation was heading.

"It triggered the system again. I'm not sure on one thing though, that the signal is from the ship or something inside of it."

"So an accomplice snatched some of the tech from the emitter and ran off, more or less?" Raynor crossed his arms as his head bobbed between Horner and Weston.

"That's a valid assessment, sir." Horner continued to scan over the data after agreeing.

"Shit, more future trouble."

Weston wanted to throw up. A certain smug grin came back to mind, though there was no evidence to prove it could be. Certainly, Raynor's possibility was more likely.

"Weston, you okay?" Raynor's concerned gaze was aimed his way. "You have another option to add to the pot?"

"No, no I'm good."

"Doubt it." Raynor shook his head in disagreement. "Go to the infirmary, and that's an order. I mean it looks like you saw a Ghost."


End file.
